#you are not obligated to stick by my side! But don't act like I'm doing you a disservice by turning my attention elsewhere

[navybrat817]

Where Did the Time Go?

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldn’t include drinking. You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didn’t have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didn’t finish your glass, she didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.

But you should’ve known that Bucky would catch on.

“Not drinking tonight, huh?” He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You weren’t worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.

But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?

“Not tonight,” you replied, holding up your cup of water. “Sticking with water.”

“You’re acting like we need a designated driver when we’re not going anywhere,” he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. “Afraid I’ll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?” He asked, grinning when you smiled. “We can have a tournament? Just the two of us?”

“Hey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,” you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. “And it isn’t exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?”

“It can be. We make our own rules,” he smiled as he moved a little closer. “Remember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.”

You laughed a little. How could you forget? “Yes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,” you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.

Until you weren’t.

Bucky must’ve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. “Seriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel fine. I just don’t need to drink tonight,” you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No. You’re, um,” he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. “There isn’t a specific reason you aren’t, is there? You're not…” he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.

You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. “If so, the answer is NO.”

The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation for why you aren’t drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didn’t think the odds were in your favor. “I still can’t believe you asked that,” you half teased, pointing at your stomach. “Not to mention, I haven’t been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, that’s never going to be the case.”

The odd expression was back on Bucky’s face. What was his deal? “When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked with more interest than you expected.

“Months ago. Minimum,” you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. “His name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Haven’t gone on another date since.”

The clench in Bucky’s jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. “I’m sorry. It’s his loss.”

“Don’t be. I’m kind of used to it,” you said with a nonchalant shrug.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. “What exactly are you used to?”

Why does he sound upset? It's not like I’m not his girl.

“It means I’m used to guys not picking me,” you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didn’t hurt as badly. “Think about it, Bucky. In all the time you’ve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They haven’t and that’s just the way it is.”

“That’s bullshit. You’re perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you don’t see them,” he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant,” you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. “I see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? I’d love an example.”

There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.

“What about your old friend, TJ? You’re telling me he didn’t see you?” He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.

“TJ?” You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldn’t fake if you tried. “TJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesn’t see me.”

Not even close.

“He stayed at your place after Steve’s party,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Bet he couldn’t wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.”

Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?

You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steve’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.”

Bucky did a double take, which would’ve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldn’t kick him out. He needed a friend,” you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. “He has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldn’t be happier. And I couldn’t be happier for him.”

Bucky blinked a few times. “So, you two. You never…?”

“TJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,” you smiled with a shake of your head. “We adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever would’ve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. “I thought you two hooked up,” he said more to himself than to you.

Where the hell did he get that impression?

“No, we didn't and we never will,” you said again before something he said dawned on you. “Wait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.”

Going through the dates again in your head, it wasn’t long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasn’t you.

“Come with me,” Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didn’t look back when Steve called after the two of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. “Talk to me, please.”

“I wasted two years,” he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. “Two fucking years.”

What is he talking about?

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I made a huge mistake and I regret it,” he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. “And I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.”

“Tell me what? Bucky, what did you do?”

And can we come back from it?

That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes x reader #dreamboat and butterfly #reconnect au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #sebastian stan

[lovrsm]

ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ

sum: in which your brother invites you to a party, and oh god, you're so glad you accepted.

word count: 2.4k

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: drinking, curse words & insinuation of cheating.

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ - ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ

"you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk"

Monaco was such a lovely place, when my brother had told me about it I thought he was exaggerating. I mean, it wouldn't be that weird if he had, he's always excited about everything, he's the kind of guy who makes you see as if the world is made of bright rainbow colors, and I believe him.

I arrived from the airport about 2 hours ago, I was on my way to the hotel where Lando was staying, he told me he got another room for me. How could I say no?

He called me yesterday at about 3pm

"No, I'm telling you, IT WILL BE THE PARTY OF THE YEAR!" he screamed over the phone, making me laugh.

"Lando, I just came from signing with my sponsors, they expect me to write more songs in a 4 months period, you know how complicated that's going to be?" I exhaled, taking off my heels, tossing them across the room as I lay down on the couch. I was exhausted.

"C'mon, you'll have plenty of things to write songs about, look, I can already hear it!" he started to hum a catchy tone, making the corners of my mouth go up. "Lando... Jake won't be able to be there, god, I don't even know if he'll want me to be there, you know?"

I could already see him in the doorway telling me where am I.

Sure, he was on canada filming, but what if he finds out?

"I'm not even letting you say no, I'm already booking tickets, get all you need, you can even shop here if you want, I just want my sister with me tomorrow night with me"

"You better go get me at the airport Lando Norris."

"I wont let you down peanut" He chuckled and hung up on me.

Well he kinda let me down, he couldn't come get me due to some last minute meeting he had. I don't really mind, I know having a busy life is exhausting.

I thanked the taxi driver giving his a generous tip, my bodyguard helped me get out my suitcases, I had a hoodie and black sunglasses, he had a casual outfit so we wouldn't stand out.

For being a top artist in the whole world, I did not like having that much security. But it was an obligation, not an option, I had to stick to what my manager and team asks me to do.

_

After a busy day of shopping and walking around the streets, I could barely feel my feet. I had gotten a beautiful short red dress. Perfect fit for the occasion. It was just 7p.m. and Lando had texted me he was on his way to my dorm.

The door opened to reveal my very festive brother in the other side "You're here!" "I'm here!" I screamed back jumping into his arms.

We catched up, he was telling me about how he checked the track, for the next season, since we were in December. Although I never really understood racing, when we were kids our parents would take us out to the karts, and I'd always crash while he was beating all of us who tried to play.

He focused on sports and I focused on music, since I was 12 years old I learned to play the guitar. My mom used to tell me that I was a genius at writing songs, I guess many people think the same.

Time passed by too fast, with him I felt like an hour were just 5 minutes.

After hating each other all our childhood, we became closer than ever after my career and his took off. I think it was because we were twins, we hated it when people said we acted the same, because physically we are not alike at all. I am so much prettier, obviously.

it was already 8 o'clock "I'm leaving, I should get ready, do you wanna come with me?"

"I'd stopped talking to you if you let me get there alone, I know none of these guys Lando."

"I'm sure you'll know somebody miss famous." He bumped my shoulder and left my room, entering to his which was next door.

I took my time getting ready. God, I love being a woman. I took a bath, fixed my hair, put on my make-up and finally there was the dress, hanging on the bathroom door. I think it is one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen in my life.

How did I manage to put on the mini dress correctly by myself? I don't even know, but I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. God if only someone could look at me.

Oh wait! There is someone, I grabbed my phone to click his name, my phone started to ring. I waited patiently, but he did not answer. So I called him once more, this time he did answer.

I heard loud music and singing in the back. "What do you need?" he asked, I could hear the irritation in his voice. "I wanted to hear from you, we haven't talked-"

"We talked last Monday, wasn't that enough? I'm busy." He interrupted me.

"Where are you?" I asked intrigued this time.

"Uhm... I'm in the bar with some friends"

"Oh and that's just more important than your girlfriend?" I raised my voice at him, I was now sitting the edge on the bed.

"Look, I don't want to fight, just call me later." He said, basically hanging the phone. "Jake..." I said before he could do so.

"What?" He sounded desperate. "Take care." I said.

"Ok" He hung. I felt disgusted, why? not idea, I just felt dirty, as if I was forcing him to talk to me. I took some deep breathes so I could calm my nerves down.

I don't even want to go out anymore.

I tried hard not to cry, I wasn't going to ruin my makeup over some small argument, I'm sure tomorrow we'll be alright, we always end up alright.

It felt as an eternity till I heard a knock on my door, I quickly grabbed my bag, looked in the mirror once more to fix my dark wavy hair, and rushed to the door. I opened it, in the side was Lando, his back on the wall while he was looking at his phone.

He turned it off and looked at me, I smiled "Ready to go Peanut?"

"Lets go"

_

We finally got to the club, electronic music was blasting off, people were already drunk, and boy they didn't even tried to hide it.

We had to basically run to the VIP area, I didn't said anything to my bodyguard about this, besides, he can use a break.

Lando was immediately greeted by everyone who was in the room. "LANDO!" A man screamed to him "Ayee, we're here!" He said hugging the man, and patting him in the back. "you're so late, you were the only ones missing!"

"we're here Pierre, I'd like to present to you all my sister!" He hugged me by the side and I waved with a smile on my face. It seemed that most of them recognized me, because some of them just stood there in shock "Hey everyone, ready to get wasted?" I laughed, that made them less tense and cheered, lifting their cups.

Lando gave a me a sweet kiss in my head, "see, you'll be fine, have some fun peanut!" I let go and we both went our own way.

I started to talk to a girl, her name is Kika, I learnt she was the girlfriend of a guy named Pierre Gasly. I've heard about him but no one ever told me how fun his girlfriend was!

"Girl, you should try this margarita, the most wholesome thing you'll have in your life!"

She was not kidding with that. In a few minutes, I had asked for... about 5 of them, or maybe just 13.

I had talked to everyone in the room by 10 pm, they were all so fun, and the energy was of another planet.

"Yeah, and then Max would make that grumpy face. I swear he looks like and old man!"

"very mature Lando, so mature." I bursted out laughing. "LECLERC HAS ARRIVED!" I heard someone scream in the entrance, and in seconds half of the group was there greeting the guy.

I decided I was going to take something else than a margarita. I walked up to the bartender, who definitely did not understood me. I don't know if I was speaking too softly or if I was just way too drunk to talk, but I decided to leave, I turned around and bumped into someone.

I was about to loose my balance till his arms were wrapped around my waist, I was able to stand straight. "are you alright?" he asked.

I looked into his eyes, green eyes "what?"was all I could manage. "Are you alright?" He asked again, I now noticed a thick accent, I bursted out laughing for that.

He looked so confused, he let go and chuckled with me. For a second it was as if the whole club was quiet. I looked again at him, and I immediately looked down at the floor. He grabbed my hand, the lights went out for a second and my world spun. My legs were about to give up.

His touch was... it was, god I can't even say it.

"I'm Charles, what's your name?"

I bit my lip, what went out of my mouth was definitely not what I wanted to say. "Do you always talk like that?" I asked a bit to seriously, I chuckled so that I wasn't that rude.

"Yeah, my first language isn't english."

"Huh." I said, I felt as if he had a goddamn magnetic field and it was pulling me towards him, I couldn't stand it.

I ran off to the other side of the room, leaving him standing alone next to the bar.

_

All night.

All night I couldn't stop thinking about him, his hand touching my hand in the darkened room...

and I made fun of the way he talked.

I'm never drinking again.

Yet there I was, in the bar once more, asking for whiskey. Mature, so mature.

I kept bouncing back and forth between the people there, once I saw Charles walking to my way, I would ran to the other side of the room.

I have a boyfriend for gods sake! I can't be thinking these unhealthy things about him.

But, I mean, can you blame me?

Look at him.

His first two buttons were unbottened which made him look so attractive. And you should see his dimples, he's so gorgeous it actually fucking hurts!

"So you're not going to talk to me?" I heard a voice behind my ear. His chest touching my back. I didn't move, but I did answer.

"Who said I wasn't going to?" I asked playfully, with a grin on my face, knowing he couldn’t see me.

He hummed in my ear, before he turned me to look him in the eye, he grabbed my neck, but he didn't kiss me. Instead, he brought his lips back to my ear.

"Then why do you keep running, huh?" His hot breath sent a shiver down my spine. I was dumbfolded by his actions, he took a step back to look at me.

I looked into his eyes, I was absolutely taking him in. I looked at his dimples because of the grin he had in his face. His eyebrows, his slightly sweaty hair, with pieces of it falling into his face.

I couldn't help myself, I noticed how he looked into my eyes, and then to my mouth.

What if..?

I asked to myself, I closed my eyes and got closer to him, waiting for a kiss. But he grabbed me by my hips pulling me back.

"You're far too drunk, ma chou" I heard and opened my eyes, he gave me a sympathetic smile. I felt dumb for a second, but after seeing his face... I think I might be falling.

"Why don't we leave, would you like that?" I hugged him, my head in his neck. I nodded as fast as I could. He grabbed me and in a second, we were in his car.

For sure the alcohol got to my head that night.

_

Taglist

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #scuderia ferrari #lando #gorgeous

[justanotherrpmeme]

Chaotic Neutral starters

"Rules are for people who can't think for themselves." "Why stick to the plan when we can make things interesting?" "Don't expect me to be a hero on a leash." "Freedom, my friend, is the sweetest nectar. I won't let anyone clip my wings, no matter the cost." "Morality? That's a flexible concept." "I'll do what feels right in the moment, consequences be damned." "Why stress about the grand scheme of things? Life's too short to be tied down by obligations." "Laws? More like suggestions. I'll follow them if they make sense, but I won't lose sleep over it." "You call it chaos; I call it liberation." "Breaking the mold is my specialty." "Predictable is the last thing I want to be." "Don't expect me to pick a side. I'm a solo act." "Consequences are just tomorrow's problems." "Labels are for jars, not people." "I don't mind a little anarchy. Keeps things interesting and weeds out the weak."

[DEFYING] The sender rebels against an authority figure, challenging their directives. [ESCAPING] The sender slips away from confinement or restraint. [PLAYFUL] The sender pulls off a harmless but amusing prank. [IGNORING] The sender deliberately ignores established rules. [DISRUPTING] The sender intentionally disrupts a gathering or event. [GRIN] The sender wears a mischievous grin, ready to stir up some trouble.

#rp starter #rp ask #starter meme #roleplay meme #rp meme

[oomisluvr]

sakusa takes care of a sick!reader <3

synopsis: granted, it is a bit gross. the sniffling. the sweating. god, the coughing. but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy this. just a little.

warnings: none, just some light swearing!

KIYOOMI should not be enjoying this as much as he should.

a steady hand brings another spoonful of soup to his lips, blowing on the contents to cool them off.

"this is humiliating," you groan, opening your mouth as sakusa feeds you now-tepid broth, complete with airplane noises and silly voices, "you don't have to feed me."

watching closely, he smiles softly as you thoughtfully chew and swallow, your sore throat bobbing with the motion. he likes taking care of you. maybe a bit too much, if he's being honest.

"of course i do," he quips, already preparing another spoonful, "i'm your partner. it's my job to take care of you."

"no, no more!" you whine, shaking your head, "i don't want to eat anymore. i'm full."

he frowns. you barely ate today. "give me five more bites of soup and finish the rest of your toast."

you sniffle and nod, opening your mouth to welcome the next spoonful of soup, "did you make this yourself?" you ask, congestion muffling your words. kiyoomi thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever heard.

"yeah, i got the recipe from my mother." a small droplet of soup dribbles out of the corner of your lip, but kiyoomi is quick to act, dabbing away the liquid before it reaches your clothes, "she sends her regards, by the way."

"i love that woman." you babble, "i'm surprised you're not freaked out by all this."

"by what? feeding you?"

"no, like," you open your mouth for another spoonful of soup. sakusa rushes to oblige you, happy that you requested more, "all the germs and stuff. earlier i sneezed and a booger shot across the room. a full 10 feet, at least."

"well when you put it like that, it sounds pretty fucking gross." he frowns.

"i thought it was cool."

"you think everything is cool." he sighs, "especially dumb shit like snot rockets." you giggle at the words 'snot rocket' coming out of his mouth.

"but, no, i'm not freaked out." he adds, setting the chipped bowl to the side when you turn your nose up at the next spoonful, "i think i was at first, but we live together," he shrugs, "i can't really protect myself unless i lock you inside the closet for the next two weeks, and that's not an option. if i get sick, i get sick. i've accepted my fate."

"you could go stay with one of your teammates in the mean time, if you're really bothered by it." you note seriously. you know he's trying to act cool in front of you, but you know how big of a sacrifice this is .

"i'd rather catch the plague." his ears perk up at the sound of your laugh, "besides, if i get sick, you get to take care of me." he grins, "won't that be fun?"

"i might lock you in the closet, actually." he scoffs.

"i'm going to wash your dishes," he pokes your cheek. you make an effort to bite the offensive finger but he moves away too quickly, smiling at his victory, "and when i come back you better be nice again."

you stick your tongue out at him. he returns the gesture.

distantly, you hear him humming to himself over the sound of the the rushing sink water, and something in your brain decides it's the perfect white noise to usher you into a light nap. you hadn't realized you feel asleep until you feel the cough dip, rousing you gently.

"how do you feel, love?" he asks, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead and cheeks.

"sleepy," you mumble, "sleepy and cold."

"don't fall asleep yet," he lightly chastises, "you have to take your medicine now."

"noooo," you cry out, "that shit tastes like shit."

he cracks a smile, "i'm pretty sure it's grape flavored, actually."

you glare at him, "i won't take it."

"it'll make you feel better, though."

you shake your head, "not worth it. i would rather die."

"please, baby? for me?" he gives a dramatic show of puppy-dog eyes and a pout, making every effort to coax you into taking your medicine.

you don't cave, placing your palm over your mouth to emphasize your unwillingness.

"if you don't take your medicine, then you don't love me." he deadpans.

"that's literally gaslighting." you call him out, "you're gaslighting me."

"is it?" he questions, "i don't think you know what actual gaslighting is."

"stop!" you laugh, "that's even more gaslighting."

he smiles handsomely, happy that he was able to shake some giggles from your sore throat, "how about this: what's it going to take for you to take your medicine? anything goes."

"you'd do anything?"

he nods firmly, "whatever it takes."

"alright," his determination makes you flush, "take a nap with me."

it's such a simple request, but if you read in between the lines it sounds more like a declaration of love. kiyoomi's always been slack-jawed at the fact that you actually like him. not despite his flaws, but because of them. your love is all-encompassing, and you've adopted his strange habits into your life and accommodated for them as if they were your own. you never ask him for much, you never push too hard. you deserve the world, and kiyoomi will be damned if he isn't the one to give it to you.

he supposes a nap isn't entirely out of the question.

"i can do that," he responds cooly, "i'll get the cough syrup."

it takes 20 more minutes of bickering before you swallow the spoonful of purple syrup, and another 5 minutes of expressing your distaste following the whole ordeal.

taking the heavy comforters usually saved for the winter months from the closet, he settles himself beneath you as the two of you lie down for an afternoon nap.

you've got an army of pillows and blankets around you, an array of fabrics piled up to your chin. despite the countless layers, you're shivering. oh well, he figures, just another excuse to pull you closer.

guess what!!!!!!!!!! more domestic sakusa!!!!!!!! r u noticing a pattern!!!!!

#sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #msby sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa fic #sakusa one shot #sakusa imagine #sakusa imagines #hq sakusa #hq x reader #msby x reader #msby #haikyuu #msby sakusa kiyoomi #domestic.sakusa

[thesherrinfordfacility]

Longwinded anon again. It's very easy to see where Aziraphale needs to get his act together/get therapy in regards to his belief in Heaven's essential goodness (and it was always very odd to see fans believing that four years would have been sufficient, narrative-wise, for that to happen--four years is nothing to characters who are immortal). Crowley, though, is still doing one of the most toxic things on his side of the relationship: he's being over-protective. In S1, the "damsel in distress" bits, which I know some fans like to romanticize, are harmful to both characters, because they make Crowley feel like he's doing something heroic when he isn't (every rescue in S1 is unnecessary) and encourage Aziraphale to abandon his agency. In the narrative arc, Aziraphale's discorporation, which Crowley fails to stop, is liberating. He does his conscientious objector bit, chucks himself out of Heaven, kicks Crowley out of his depression in the bar, vanishes the soldier, and then has to forcibly remind Crowley at the airfield that /now/, in fact, Crowley needs to do something or there will be irreversible consequences. And then they rescue each other through the body swap.

S2 doesn't have the big swoopy rescue scenes, aside from the 1941 replay, but what it does have is Crowley withholding key information that might well have altered Aziraphale's behavior. He clearly hasn't been forthright about what Gabriel really said at the execution, and he never gets around to mentioning that Aziraphale has put himself in danger of being zapped out of existence by Heaven. (This is very PRIDE & PREJUDICE: Lydia elopes with Wickham in part because her older sisters don't publicize his bad behavior.) Again, he thinks of himself as Aziraphale's protector, and while Aziraphale knows that Crowley likes to protect him--he even says so--in S2 he doesn't fully understand what Crowley is protecting him from. Nina asks Aziraphale why he doesn't stick up for himself, and he shows once again that he can, but in S2 Crowley thinks it's his job to keep Aziraphale safe from any real Heaven-sent nastiness that might puncture his innocence. Which prevents Aziraphale from evaluating his choices once the Metatron shows up.

(As for S3: Gaiman does appear committed to getting them together in their cottage, so I don't think a permanent breakup is on the horizons. I do think something drastic has to happen, whether becoming mortal, becoming a "new" sort of immortal being tied to Earth rather than Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale delivering a full-bore public rejection of Heaven with attendant consequences, etc.)

Longwinded Anon✨, light of my life, you are officially driving me insane with these asks (screenshots of others under the cut); there is so much fascinating insight to talk about. first of all, though, welcome back and i hope you are also Surviving following s2!✨

these two characters are two of the most fun to dissect and examine. they are hugely multifaceted, and every time i watch s2 and ruminate on them, there is more and more to find. the below is the result of those ruminations, and i feel the obligation to warn anyone reading that it is going to be a very, very long one, so ✨buckle tf up✨

further messages from Longwinded Anon✨, my beloved:

aziraphale: insecurity

to me, one of the key tenets of aziraphale's character is a deep-seated and complete sense of insecurity and lack of self-esteem. and it's not unfathomable to think that he's had a lack of self-worth for some time, carrying all the way through to the Feral Domestic™ (FD). bear in mind that all of the below is without reference to the pre-fall scene, which ill cover separately later on.

there is however the fairly obvious element that heaven and the archangels completely disregard aziraphale, and are condescending and reductive in how they perceive and interact with him. aziraphale, i think, adopted this mindset pretty heavily in s1 - one such example being the "I'm soft" line - and it is further explored in s2, but specifically at the later end.

aziraphale in s2 seems much more self-possessed and 'together', and a key element of that shift is not only his liberation from heaven, but also that he somewhat starts to see himself through crowley's eyes as possibly being worthy of being loved. i think that he starts to think of himself as, in fact, having intrinsic value.

this is shown, in particular, in s2 by the contrast between ep2's rock scene (where he starts to question the depth of his angelic allegiance, and that he might have actually done the right thing by following his own personal conviction and helping save job's children), and the majority of ep5 (ie. his absolutely astounding - by aziraphale standards - amount of confidence in himself to get him and the ball attendees out of demonic danger).

this is brought to a head though by shax's comments in ep5, where she really drives a stake into the core of aziraphale's insecurity. she remarks on his propensity for indulgence (sushi/meals), his tendency to be overtrusting and naive ("softest touch"), his lack of traditional angelic quality ("went native"), and the question of what exactly crowley feels for him ("emotional support angel").

setting aside Michael's acting - which was truly mesmerising in this one little scene, probably one of his set-pieces in the show, honestly - that tells us that this really got to him, we know from everything we have seen of aziraphale in GO that these are likely thoughts that he has repressed, or pretends are not conceivable when they absolutely are.

my final interpretation of aziraphale's insecurity, however, is not necessarily that he thinks he is without value or merit whatsoever, but that he is not enough.

he's good enough to guard the eastern gate, but not good enough to keep adam and eve from temptation. he's good enough to guard and monitor the antichrist, but not enough to be truly accepted as part of the heaven hive (his physical sentry post on earth notwithstanding). he's good enough for crowley to run away with to alpha centauri, but not enough to convince crowley to choose to stay and fight with him to prevent the apocalypse.

this starts to wane in s2, and he's noticeably more happy and confident... right up until ep6 when he's good enough to be loved by crowley enough to spend eternity with, but not enough for crowley to sacrifice his hang-ups with heaven and help him rebuild it as a team so noone else ever has to suffer what they both did.

the lines however in ep6 that particularly broke my heart, because aziraphale literally conveys this whole painful, bleeding part of his psyche to crowley, are the following:

a: "if im in charge, i can make a difference."

a: "i don't think you understand what im offering you."

whatever the motive behind metatron's offer to aziraphale (and therefore calling into question the sincerity of his compliments to aziraphale), aziraphale has literally just been told that not only does someone who - whichever way you slice it - is the highest being in heaven that he has the ability to run it, but he has the ability to completely gut and rebuild it for the better.

harking back to ep1 with crowley's statement that aziraphale only calls him for three reasons, one of which is telling crowley something clever ie. his own achievements, it does make me wonder how often this scenario truly happens. maybe it does happen often, but what does aziraphale actually consider to be an achievement? something to be proud of himself for, that is purely reflective of his ability and - by extension - worth?

when aziraphale tells crowley that he might be misunderstanding what aziraphale is offering him, i don't interpret it as anything to do with restoring crowley; instead, i just see aziraphale telling crowley that he is offering up absolutely everything that he is, every single atom and aspect of him, and all crowley has to do is trust him enough to take it. he is saying that he will love crowley, and crowley can be free to love him, but only, in aziraphale's eyes, if crowley can accept aziraphale as he is; that he is enough.

during this whole part of the scene, crowley won't even look at him. won't even face him, sunglasses or not, and acknowledge what aziraphale is saying, right up until this line. you can visibly see that aziraphale starts to get angry that the one person who made him feel any self-worth might in fact have never seen him as good enough in the first place, that crowley didn't in fact love every part of him, and was choosing to cherrypick the aspects of aziraphale that suited crowley, rather than the whole.

this snippet of the scene is compounded by being sandwiched by these two crowley lines which, in my eyes, really highlighted that crowley is in fact only choosing to accept aziraphale in small measures, and that other elements of him are not enough:

c: "...you're better than that, angel!"

c: "you idiot, we could have been us."

aziraphale is enough exactly as he is; he's not perfect and certainly not wholly complete, but for crowley to dig at aziraphale by intimating that he is not reaching the bar that crowley has set for him - potentially subconsciously - is likely be the true end for how much stock aziraphale put in crowley's perception of him, and by extension the worth that he thought he had in crowley's mind. instead, aziraphale is now left to find a way of building his sense of self-worth all by himself - and does so by stepping into that lift.

crowley: salvation

im not going to necessarily talk about all the times that crowley demonstrates an almost pathological need to be aziraphale's saviour, because frankly Longwinded Anon✨ has that covered. but as with all things GO-related, i think it's important to try to understand why.

i truly think that a cornerstone of crowley's romanticism is deeply rooted in the concept of salvation. now, we know that he doesn't appear to give a flying fuck about salvation from heaven, but he certainly seems to put a great deal of import on being aziraphale's hero, and later he seems to question a great deal when aziraphale essentially finds a hero elsewhere.

as LW Anon✨ said, aziraphale is very cognizant that crowley likes to play hero where he's concerned, and seems simultaneously resigned and excited by the matter; resigned because actually, sometimes, aziraphale is smart or powerful enough to keep himself safe, but excited because this is possibly the epitome of how crowley expresses his love for him.

aziraphale shows that he is fully aware of this characteristic of crowley's, and whilst he does play into it (which we saw throughout all of s1e3) to 'make crowley happy' (and, dare i say, also because at this point it is the supernatural, sex-less interpretation of centuries-long foreplay) in s2 it almost starts to become neglectful, overbearing, and dismissive of - as LWA✨ says - any true agency that aziraphale has built since breaking from heaven. this, incidentally, is highlighted in the following exchange:

c: "im gonna get the humans out of here and then im coming back, i won't leave you on your own."

a: "i know, but i have a suggestion-"

c: [interrupts] "ive got this."

whether crowley feels like he is missing any genuine overture from heaven to apologise for making him fall for a minor infraction, or he feels guilty about something that he did (ie possibly what made him fall) and is making his own reparations in the outlet of constantly being aziraphale's saviour, the one that is certain is that crowley has to feel needed, and by extension - loved.

he does have a nasty habit of putting aziraphale down (which ill talk about next), however much in jest, and placing aziraphale constantly under his metaphorical wing. aziraphale going so far in s1 to actually work out the apocalypse and proceed to take what he believes is the right action to prevent it on his own must have, by extension, sent crowley reeling - if aziraphale can in fact look after himself, where does that leave crowley? what else, in crowley's eyes, could he possibly bring to the table that would make aziraphale want to keep him? love him?

i think that this is crowley's own brand of insecurity; that unless he is performatively saving aziraphale and protecting him from harm, and actively dismissing aziraphale's ability to protect himself sufficiently enough, he has no discernible quality that aziraphale would want. so instead he tries to make himself so integral to aziraphale's survival so that aziraphale has no choice but to keep him.

the fact that aziraphale saves himself in s1, and they then reflectively save each other, did wonders for aziraphale in progressing as a character. however, in crowley, i feel that this frightened him so emotionally that it regressed his character somewhat. all coming to the climax of when aziraphale, in good faith, offers crowley the chance at salvation for himself, crowley vehemently refuses it and takes it to insult. there are many other valid and understandable reasons why crowley rejects the prospect, but one of them to me is that it would leave crowley's fundamental role in aziraphale's existence as completely redundant.

both: demonstrating love

essentially what i put in an ask recently, but needed referencing here too.

leading on from crowley and his hero/saviour complex: the thing is that these are two diametrically opposing people in all but a handful of aspects. crowley by large is usually the more obviously demonstrative in his affection, borne out of many different reasons, and he is the ultimate Acts of Service (ft. Quality Time) dude. aziraphale tends to be more subtle, with Looks and Words, in how he displays his, so let's give him the Words of Affirmation (ft. QT) crown.

in s2, it seems to me that this hasn't really changed, but they are starting to cross over into speaking the language that the other understands. and to me, this comes to a head by the time of the ep5, and the ep6 FD. so obviously crowley has finally bridged into verbally demonstrating to aziraphale how he feels. aziraphale did the same action but mirrored by - however misguided - offering crowley the chance to be restored.

but neither want what the other is giving; they want what the other usually does to show their affection. aziraphale wants crowley to demonstrate his willingness to be with aziraphale by coming with him to heaven, and crowley wants aziraphale to acknowledge what he is telling aziraphale and respond in kind. neither are at fault for wanting that; they have simply demonstrated their devotion to each other in different ways, but those ways have been quite damaging.

crowley does do a lot for aziraphale, that can't be denied, but AoS is way more demonstrative, and yet it's easy to miss what those acts are actually saying. WoA can be more casual but the words you choose speak volumes... "our car/bookshop", "id love for you to help me", "my friend crowley", etc.

whilst i don't necessarily subscribe to the psychology of love languages, they're useful for this sort of analysis. aziraphale does even branch out in other languages; he is constantly touching crowley this season; the pub, the ball, the bookshop in early ep6. quality time is a given, and has always been their common ground. giving gifts im not so sure on, but i think the significance of readily offering crowley the bookshop as being his - something that was wholly aziraphale's, not heaven's, and is aziraphale's own sanctuary - spoke volumes.

specifically in ep5 however, aziraphale really goes ham in demonstrating to crowley how he sees love, defines it, and that he could give this to crowley - the pinnacle of this being the dance and the evident romantic implications of it... it summarises all of aziraphale's own romantic idealistic make-up; touching, intimate conversation, choosing crowley as his partner, romantic literature, classical music, etc.

and whilst comedic and obviously reflective of crowley being otherwise preoccupied re: demon incursion, i also thought that the physical imagery of aziraphale literally dragging him to the dancefloor, and crowley questioning when they've ever danced in the past, was particularly telling about crowley's reaction to how aziraphale is trying to convey to him, without saying the words, that he loves him.

aziraphale in s2 truly does give crowley everything that he can. his love is quiet, and gentle, and romantic, and whilst not as high stakes as saving aziraphale's life, it is still valid. however, it seems that where aziraphale seems to have recognised his feelings quite early on and acknowledged them early on, having time to settle them into his soul (even if he couldn't act for fear of heaven), s2 seems to indicate that crowley refused to acknowledge his until the eleventh hour.

but crowley's love has been there all along, ticking away. ignoring his tendency to stick his oar in where it isn't needed (saving aziraphale and treating him as if he were made of glass), he shows his love in his own ways - following aziraphale around soho, silently supportive, admires him for calming down the bookshop and handling the IB situation, tidies the bookshop for him (which also possibly indicates that he's now finally accepting the bookshop as his home), etc.

both of them take a swan dive in the declaring-love endgame in ep6, but neither of them are responsive to the love language that they usually give. aziraphale is given words but wants actions, and crowley is given actions but wants words. the chronic lack of communication between the two of them throughout the show is the main contributing factor to this disconnect, and leads to serious ramifications in their ability to possibly mend it going into s3.

aziraphale: pre-fall

at the risk of daring to contradict LWA✨ in their assessment of aziraphale's feelings towards the angel-who-crowley-was (AWCW) in the pre-fall scene, upon reflection i don't get the sense that aziraphale falls in love with AWCW in this moment. and exactly as pointed out by @assiraphales, we don't have any of the gaps filled in between this scene and The Wall, so it's arguably unknown when exactly those feelings deepened.

there is definitely attraction of some kind (can angels experience physical attraction? presumably they do, if aziraphale thought the "gorgeous" comment was directed at him), an admiration of AWCW's abilities, and an immediate concern for AWCW's wellbeing if he were to question god. but i don't get the sense that he falls in love; more that he's bumped into a cool, attractive kid outside his locker and immediately starts spouting angelic heart eyes, and at the least develops an immediate fascination.

AWCW is presented as being rather classist in this scene, and whilst not outright maliciously rude, he definitely seems to look down on aziraphale, or consider him relatively inconsequential. which is odd, because i think if he actually listened to what aziraphale was telling him, aziraphale actually comes across as having his own brand of status. i can't imagine that any bog-standard angel would be entrusted with helping god with building Her ultimate creation, building humans, and being allowed to see the Great Plan. whilst maybe not the same level as AWCW, i think the fandom is underplaying aziraphale's own significance in this part of the story.

the fact remains however that the aziraphale we see in this scene is still the fundamental foundation of the aziraphale we see later on in the story. AWCW calls for him as he's wandering (rocketing) past, and aziraphale doesn't hesitate to come to AWCW's aid. he's presumably going somewhere, but prioritises helping someone who needs him, and does so out of kindness and then, it seems later on, out of attraction.

he recognises the achievement of AWCW's nebula, asks questions to learn more (and thus demonstrating his interest) of the construction and purpose of AWCW's craft, and outright compliments it for its brilliance and wonder. all behaviours that id say is rooted in wanting to establish a friendship, and meanwhile developing an arguably shallow crush.

i think that these are also general admirations that aziraphale brings forward as he gets to know crowley as a demon, but has to adjust his world-view that he may admire the principle if not the act; he thinks crowley is clever and fun and talented, even if he doesn't condone the new ways in which crowley displays this.

there are definitely times where aziraphale is still caught up in crowley being a good person and concluding that crowley must still be an angel in all but name, but i do not necessarily think that he thinks lesser of crowley as a demon out of maliciousness. i think it's hard for aziraphale to conflate the two ideas that a) crowley has moments of being a good person regardless of hellish or heavenly identity, and that b) crowley doesn't want to be an angel. aziraphale still parallels good with angelicness, holds being good (and therefore being an angel) as the epitome of character, and can't as a result understand that if they were given the opportunity to change and improve the bad bits of heaven, why crowley wouldn't want to help him.

as LWA✨ says, the further we see their story progress, it becomes clear that aziraphale then begins to hold himself above crowley morally, and this is largely lynch-pinned on their separate identities as an angel and demon respectively. aziraphale constantly bats crowley down and puts him back in his place throughout s1, but less so in s2; in this, id refer back to aziraphale's insecurity around his being a good enough angel, but now that we have the context of AWCW having been aziraphale's technical superior, doing this possibly helps him to feel better about himself. this is abhorrent behaviour and is not at all kind, that can't be denied, but i think it is however possible to empathise with it.

aziraphale has spent a long time having an endless reserve of love and not having a lot of places where he can meaningfully channel it. he's got humanity and earth, but whilst he certainly cares for it, it doesn't mean that he candidly loves it. he still feels kinship to heaven and the other angels, but he certainly doesn't love them. in fact the only person he's ever had to fully pour out his love has been into crowley, but faced with the prospect that crowley may still be like his angelic self in that regard (ie not love him back), i think that love has been repressed so much that it's almost atrophied and turned self-destructive and self-sabotaging. in that context, whilst awful and generally inexcusable, aziraphale's behaviour starts to make sense.

crowley: Lucifer theory

i will preface this by saying that despite initial excitement, i don't necessarily think that crowley was lucifer in the colloquialised sense that we regard lucifer in general culture, but perhaps more represents lucifer in the wider sense of having a story that mirrors the one we can somewhat attribute to lucifer. whether or not he will actually be named as lucifer i think is up for debate, but in any case let's take a look at what lucifer's story actually entailed.

now i realise that i am absolutely not an expert on the matter, but there are indeed a wealth of misinterpretations where lucifer as a biblical figure is concerned. i am very behind on this discussion, angelology (shudder) is not in my limited repertoire of specialist subjects, and i welcome anyone else adding in their thoughts on the matter.

but if anyone else has zero knowledge on lucifer, like me, we'll start with the basics as i see them. name coming from the Latin for light- or dawn-bringer, lucifer has been linked to the planet venus in various tellings in roman mythology. given the occasional bright illumination of the planet as seen from earth, this is in part where we coming to the moniker Morningstar when also historically referring to lucifer. so on this base level, we have the link between lucifer and crowley by way of celestial context.

now down to a potential mistranslation, the hebrew for the name of satan, helel, has become synonymous with the name lucifer, down to their respective translations akin to the Latin for 'light-bringer'/'morningstar' as above, but that does not necessarily indicate that lucifer and satan are the same being. so this is where im fairly confident in that whoever crowley was, which is possibly lucifer, his story ran parallel to that of the former relatively unknown being and not the latter more infamous one.

crowley has referenced lucifer in s1, which has led to the debunk that the two are the same being, but when rewatching it, i think it can be completely reinterpreted:

c: "i never asked to be a demon. i was just minding my own business one day and then... "oh lookie here, it's lucifer and the guys!"... ah, hey - the food hadn't been that good lately, i didn't have anything on for the rest of the afternoon..."

this doesn't need to mean that AWCW was the one who came across lucifer and cohort, but possibly that someone else did, or just exclaiming it in the general sense. getting whimsical in the headcanon space, AWCW may well have been enjoying his afternoon, chatting with friends that he thought he could trust, and thought he could share his thoughts on challenging how things are run (same as he did with aziraphale). evidently, whatever happened completely bit him on the arse, and at minimum partially resulted in his fall.

there are multiple references to crowley being at least an angel of import, almost too many to count. however a common theme in many references to venus in various religious and mythological texts is the concept of reaching for higher power, but to be cast down and punished for it. given the indication (iirc) from interviews and also the pre-fall scene that crowley was up for collaborating with god on how to improve things in heaven, it could stand to reason that in a moment of anger or frustration he voices the thought that he could do a better job running the place.

and if other angels were behind him in this, equally dissatisfied with their lot in heaven, and being set aside by god in favour of humanity, it similarly wouldnt be a huge leap to think that this one sentence, this singular half-baked thought, might have precipitated the war. following said war, as LWA✨ suggests, it would make sense that in an effort to lick his wounds and keep a low profile, crowley would take or accept a middling rank in hell, and possibly even volunteer for the assignment of original sin; all the more opportunity to remove himself completely from the narrative between heaven and hell.

which then, now that i think about it, completely recontextualises crowley's aversion to being a part in helping aziraphale rebuild heaven. why would he want to, why wouldn't he be petrified of it, when the last time went so badly? there must be a sense of resentment towards aziraphale in this regard - what makes aziraphale, a potentially lower angel, so special that he would be invited to completely revolutionise heaven, when all AWCW did was make suggestions, and end up being villified for it? if he did join aziraphale, and challenged him, would aziraphale then be forced to cast crowley out again? what would crowley stand to lose this time?

so this is where i think the concept of crowley having a huge secret that he's keeping from aziraphale comes into play, and i agree must come out in s3. it would completely derail any faith that aziraphale had in crowley, for him to have kept such vital information from him, his potential part in the fall. i could imagine aziraphale interpreting the reveal of this secret as being that crowley fooled and hoodwinked him, however false or unintentional that might have been, and it representing the last vestige of aziraphale's innocence and naivety being swept away.

edit, because @baggvinshield has put this theory so eloquently and with far more comprehension and education than i could hope for: Lucifer theory

there are so many more topics that i have sat in various documents and in my notes as concerns these two characters; aziraphale's obsession with control and 'playing god', their shared inability to communicate effectively and meaningfully, crowley and his propensity for unintentional temptation, whether the love between them truly equates to any semblance of trust, etc etc. some of these topics have been alluded to in the above, but i felt that the above essay might be sufficient reading for now. im adoring (if a little bemused by it) the amount of discussion this silly little blog is generating, and im always more than happy to share my thoughts on anything GO-related where people want it!!!

and now - back to answering the hundreds of asks that have accumulated whilst i've hyperfixated on the above. ta-rah!✨💓

#good omens #good omens season two #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens speculation #not a shitpost but its good omens babyyyy #ask #the great go angelology debate of july 2023 #aka 'was crowley an archangel and was he raphael? answer: fuck knows' #the legend of the longwinded anon✨ #🚨 lucifer theory🚨

[miyuhpapayuh]

15. Do you know what today is? It's our anniversary.

"For today's prompt, I want you guys to dig deep. I want this to be about the passion that's in your hearts— whether it be for something you love, someone you love— whatever it is, I need you to put it on paper."

Stevie taps her pen against her cheek twice, before beginning to scribble something down.

Her head may as well have been in the clouds, since today was her and Rod's six month anniversary.

God, time has flown!

Being woken up out of her sleep to a phone call that lasted all of an hour, listening to him explain all the ways that he loved her, was definitely the best way to start her morning— even if it was a tad bit, before the birds woke up, themselves.

Halfway done with her paragraph, the door opens and Miss Johnson clears her throat.

"Well, Stevie, you have a visitor."

Stevie's cheeks immediately turn red. She places her pen down and looks up to see Rod with a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

"Oh my God," she covers her face as a couple of her female classmates giggle.

Quickly standing from her seat, the pair head into the hallway and away from the door.

"Babe," she grabs each side of his face and presses her lips against his, "you're so cute!"

"Would I be cuter if I said, this was just the beginning?" He wiggles his eyebrows, making her laugh.

"What else do you have planned, boy?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," he opens her hand and places the bouquet inside, "I just came by to drop these off, cause I couldn't wait to see your face."

"A whole bouquet, again. I peeped the switch up, babe." She giggles, messing with the petals.

"Well, you deserve more than just one rose, at this point. You deserve more than roses, at this point. I wanted to up my game." He smirks.

"Com'ere." She beckons him with her long, pink fingernail. He happily obliges, pressing his lips back to hers.

"Happy anniversary , beautiful."

"Happy anniversary, baby."

"I'm gettin' lucky, tonight?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Hm... whatchu think?"

He wraps his arms around her waist, going back in for a kiss, sloppy enough to make his entire bottom lip shine in her strawberry lip gloss.

Briefly tugging on his bottom lip, she lets it pop back in place.

“Your lips are shiny." She softly giggles, slowly moving out of his grasp.

"I wear it, proudly." He jokes, releasing her to move back towards the classroom. "I'll see you later."

"Okay," she blows him a kiss as he walks backwards down the hallway.

She heads back into her class, confidently strutting back to her seat as a couple of jealous eyes follow her.

"Hey.... Stevie, right?" The only ginger in her class, whispers from beside her.

Turning towards her left, Stevie gives her a smile. "Yeah. I didn't catch your name..."

"It's Brittany. You and your boyfriend are the cutest couple I've ever seen!"

"Thank you." The blush is still evident on her cheeks.

"Does he have a brother or..." another girl chimes in, causing Stevie to giggle.

"No, but he's got a couple friends!"

"Put us on, girl! We want that mushy love, too!"

"Alright, ladies," Miss Johnson says with a slight smile, "lets refocus."

"Happy anniversary, you dorks." Tyler sits on the opposite side of the table and slides a tray of homemade cupcakes their way.

"Awww, thanks Tyler!" Stevie coos.

Rod pulls the lid off and hums a laugh, staring down at the pink and red cupcakes with tiny stick figure couples drawn on each one.

"Very creative, my g."

"You're welcome! So, what y'all got planned?"

"I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you." Rod replies, biting into one of the cupcakes.

"And, we know you're a man of his word." Tyler throws her hands up, laughing. Stevie rolls her eyes.

"He's only acting like that, cause it's a surprise."

"Well, it must be something extra special, then."

"It is! She's just gotta trust me and be patient." He scoffs.

"I just wanna know if I should dress up or not."

"Hm.... you actually don't have to. It'd be best to be comfortable."

She raises an eyebrow at him, trying her damnedest to figure out where he's taking her.

"You're not gonna figure it out, babygirl."

"That won't stop her from trying," Tyler wheezes a laugh, watching Stevie's nose wrinkle up.

"Screw the both of you."

"Ooooh, pretty roses and pretty people!" Claire claps at the sight of her favorite couple, besides her own.

"Wassup, clairvoyant!" Rod teases, leaning on the freshly cleaned countertop. Claire sucks her teeth.

"What did I tell you about that nickname?"

"I thought you liked it." He shrugs.

"Her exact words were, what kind of corny ass nickname is that?" Stevie interjects, earning a high five from Claire.

"Nowhere in that, did I hear dislike. I just heard you call me corny." He chuckles.

"Boy," she rolls her eyes, "get your arms off my counter!" She grabs the towel out of her back pocket and swats him with it.

"Yes, boss lady." He salutes her, causing Stevie to snicker.

"You're super annoying, Roderick."

"Alright, Alaina. Keep it up and you won't be going anywhere." He half threatens.

"I don't even know where we're going." She quips.

"And, you won't." He deadpans.

"That's fine. I guess I'll just take back all the things I bought you, then. I've still got the receipts." She blinks, grabbing her apron off the hook.

"Hm." They stare at each other for a solid five seconds, before he cracks a smile. "What you buy, daddy?"

"Oh dear God," Claire balls up a napkin and tosses it at his head, before walking into the back.

"It doesn't matter, cause I'm taking it back."

"Gimme them flowers, then."

She moves them away from him, before he can reach out to grab them.

"No! They're too pretty, babe." He stares at her pouty expression.

"You're such a baby, you know that?"

"I'm your baby, so that makes it okay." She leans on the counter, meeting him halfway for a goodbye kiss.

"Thanks for dropping me off."

"Mm, if we had more time, I woulda did more than drop you off." He kisses her again, muffling her groan.

"The day isn't over, yet."

"Keep talkin' like that and we won't make it out of the house."

"No, we're gonna go wherever it is that you planned."

"You're gonna love it, too."

"You promise?"

"I do." One more kiss and he's backing away from the counter. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"What time do you get off?"

"Six."

"Aight, I'll be here around 5:45."

"Alright."

He heads out of the door and a couple of people head up in his place, along with Alana.

"Hey, beautiful!" She greets Stevie with a kiss on the cheek.

"Wassup, girlfriend?" She replies, before tending to her customers.

"Runnin' a little late, but I'm here." She puts on her apron and pulls a couple of people from Stevie's line into her own.

"Everything alright?" Stevie glances in her direction, before reaching behind her for a napkin to wipe off the cup of coffee.

"Yeah. As soon as I left school, I went straight home and took a nap. I guess I lost track of time."

"Ah," she nods, "I got you. Well, Claire understands, I'm sure."

"Yeah, of course. I just like being punctual, you know?"

"I do." She pats her back.

Back across town, Rod locks his front door and drops the shopping bags onto his hardwood floor.

He heads into his kitchen and slides the buttercream cake into his fridge. As soon as he sits his keys down, the house phone starts ringing.

He immediately answers. "Hey, mama."

"Happy anniversary, baby boy." The boyish grin spreads across his face.

"Thanks, ma."

"What do you have planned for the occasion?"

"I'm taking her to Coney Island."

"Aw, that's cute! I haven't been there in so long. She's gonna love that."

"Man, I hope so. I didn't wanna do the traditional dinner date, like we usually do. I wanted to put some excitement in it."

"You're doing great, dear. Don't sweat it."

"Okay. I've got a few hours to kill, so I might take a nap to kill these nerves—"

"Go smoke a blunt, like you normally do, chile. You'll be fine!" He laughs at her brash response.

"You'd think I was talkin’ to one of my boys, right now.”

She hollers in response. “I'm not that bad, am I?”

“That shit was hella funny, man. But, ima go take a nap, I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, I love ya. Give Stevie my love, too."

"Will do. I love you, too."

"You smoke? Your eyes are red?" She asks, lacing up her orange converses.

"That and I just woke up, not too long ago." He leans against the wall, watching her pull her matching hoodie over her poofy hair.

"You look good." She tugs on her jeans and smiles.

"Thank you. So do you."

Sliding her chapstick in her pocket, she meets him near her bedroom door, staring up at him like a little kid.

"You ready?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

"Duh!"

He chuckles, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the house and into his Jeep.

"I got something for you." He reaches inside his jacket and hands her a blunt.

"You know the way to my heart, don't you." She grabs the lighter out of his glove compartment and sparks it.

"I would hope so. Plus, your gifts are waiting for you on your couch, when we get back."

"Yours are in my room. I'm surprised you weren't peeking around."

"That's cause I know what a surprise is."

"I know what a surprise is, Roderick." She rolls her eyes. "A girl can't be surprised?"

"You checked my pockets as soon as I got in the door!" He chuckles.

"Maybe, I was looking for gum..." she trails off, turning her gaze towards the window, continuing to smoke her blunt.

"Yeah, you knew that sounded stupid, too." He shakes his head.

Roughly an hour later, Rod parks his car down the street from their destination, so Stevie can still be surprised.

"Where are we?" Stevie asks, pulling on the strings of her hoodie.

"We're here." He sarcastically responds, poking her nose.

Her low eyes light up. "Really?"

"Really. Stay put for a second, okay?"

"Okay." She grabs his face and kisses him, causing him to smile against her lips.

Getting out of the car, he opens the back door and grabs his camera, hanging it around his neck by the strap and turning it on.

Pulling the key out of the ignition, he puts it in his pocket, closes his door and heads over to her side, opening her door and focusing the camera on her.

"Aight, babygirl." He holds his hand out for her to grab, but she just looks up goofily at the camera.

"Babe," she giggles and covers her face, "you're taping this?"

"Yes! I gotta get your reaction on camera. Is that okay with you?"

“Of course!”

He reaches out to grab her left hand, pulling her out of the car, closing the door behind her.

"Ugh, you're so cute." He locks the car up and pans the camera down to the linked fingers.

"I love you, Vie."

"I love you too— oh my gosh!"

Releasing his hand, she covers her mouth and stops walking, staring at the carousels, rides, ferris wheel and red and white striped tents ahead.

"You really brought me to Coney Island?" Her voice comes out small as her eyes start to water.

"You like it?" An underlying trace of uncertainty follows his question.

"I love it!”

Forgetting about the camera for a split second, she clings to his body like a second skin, smothering him with her kisses.

"I love you," she kisses his cheek, "I love you so much."

"I know," he proudly shrugs on the outside, while internally thanking God that she actually likes it.

"Come on!" The pair practically run to their unclear destination.

"Where to first, babygirl?"

"Hm... let's go to Luna."

"Lead the way." She cheeses and grabs his hand, heading through the pink and green, wheel- decorated gate. Rod pans his camera up to catch the view, along with the deep periwinkle sky above them.

"Ooh, I've always wanted to go on the thunderbolt!" Stevie jumps up and down like a little kid.

"Let's go ride it, then!"

After riding almost everything in both parks combined, they find a table and plop down, along with their snacks, prizes and funnel cakes.

"You got enough footage, there?" She asks, watching him stare at his camera.

"Mmmhm," his eyes dart to hers and back down, "I just need one more thing, but it can wait."

"What?" She asks, licking the powdered sugar off her fingers. He shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it. I'll capture it, one day."

"You're such a freak, Roderick."

"I didn't even say any—"

"Mmmhm." She mocks him, tearing off another piece of her funnel cake.

"What time is it?"

"A little after eight. You ready to go?" He asks.

"I just wanna give you your gifts, before it gets too late."

"Aight, we can head home, then."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. We've done everything there is to do. You got your bear, one of those goofy ass pictures they drew of us, ate your body weight in sweets— I'm just glad you enjoyed yourself." A satisfied smile sits on his lips.

"I always enjoy myself when I'm with you. This was the cutest date we've ever been on and it's definitely my favorite."

"Your favorite? Ya boy got it like that??"

She playfully rolls her eyes and stands up from the table.

"Get your goofy ass up and take me home."

"Yes ma'am."

"Okay, so at first, I really didn't know what to get you, cause shopping for boys is damn near impossible, but because I know you like the back of my hand... I found a couple of things!"

Placing the bags in front of him, she sits on the edge of her bed, while he scoots closer to her in the rolling chair.

Rummaging through the first bag, he pulls out a dark blue hoodie with a matching velvet durag. "Aw man, shorty done bought me the velvet!"

"I take it, you like it?"

"Duh! What else's in here?"

Picking up the smaller bag, he pulls out a long black box. He raises an eyebrow in her direction, but she just motions for him to open it.

"What is this, vie?"

"It's a gift, negro. Open the box!" He slowly opens, revealing the fourteen karat gold necklace with the word 'Vie' written in the prettiest cursive.

"Wow," he runs his finger along the necklace. "I don't know how to express this, without soundin' like a bitch." They both laugh.

"You love it, don't you?"

"Man, you make me wanna cry, sometimes. This is beautiful."

"Aww, don't cry!" She grabs the box out of his hand and pulls the necklace, standing up to put it on him.

"Now, we're twins!" She cheeses, widely.

"Your turn." He taps her thigh and quickly slides the pink bags her way.

She instinctively goes for the smallest bag, but he stops her. "Let's save that one for last."

"Okay..." she drags out, going for the next bag. She pulls out a notebook with different poems stamped on the front of it in calligraphy.

"Awww, I needed a new one, too!" She playfully thumps his knee, before reaching further into the bag, pulling out a photo album with a picture of them from one of their summer dates, taped to the front; Stevie clad in a figure hugging blue dress, with a slight tinge of attitude in her eyes from it being so humid, and Rod on her left with a wide grin on his face.

"Oh my God," she opens it up and finds a couple more pictures of them, standing in front of her full length mirror. She hadn't even noticed that he was taking pictures of her, because she was busy fixing her hair.

"Ugh," she drags her finger underneath her eye, catching the tears before it could actually fall. "Why you gotta make me cry?"

"You've got one more to open, babygirl." His eyes dart back to the small bag.

"Jesus," she reaches inside and grabs the small black box, immediately looking up at him. "Rod, what is this?"

"Hm, open it and we'll find out.," he smirks, watching her shaky hand pop the box open. The gasp that leaves her mouth delights him.

"You got me a promise ring?!" She gawks at the silver oval diamond with purple accents, before he takes it out of the box and slides it on her finger.

"It's really corny, but you deserve it. I'll never break any of my promises, babygirl. We're half a year in and I don't ever wanna stop, you hear me?"

She giggles, wiping away another tear.

"Heard you. I love you," she pulls him in for a kiss. "I love you so much."

"I love you, more."

"I've got something else... it's a gift for both of us."

She strides towards her closet and then scurries to her bathroom with a bag in her hand.

"You should've put it on for me," he shouts, chuckling to himself.

"Nope, cause I'd never get it on!" She shouts back.

"Shit... you've got a point."

Giggling to herself, she steps out of her remaining clothes and pulls out the silk, baby pink negligee that she picked up from saucy.

Tyler finally told Stevie about the boutique that she shops at and she didn't waste a second, heading inside and almost going broke on their selection.

Dropping her clothes into her hamper, she heads back across the hall, stopping at the doorway.

Rod leans forward and places his arms on his knees, beckoning her with a single finger. Biting her bottom lip, she strides towards him, stopping a couple centimeters from his face.

"You look so fuckin' good." He rubs his hands up and down her sides, smirking when he doesn't feel anything underneath. She bats her lashes.

"Fuck panties, huh?" He looks up at her.

"Who needs em, when they're just gonna come off, anyway. It's easier access." She throws her leg over his, leaning down to kiss him.

Pulling his T-shirt off, she tosses it behind her and pushes him back into her pillows, reaching for the button on his jeans.

"Wait, wait.," he grabs her hands and motions for her to come closer. She crawls into his lap and he moves her up on his chest.

"What are you doing?" She asks, watching him lick his lips.

"Trying something different. You aight with it?"

"Y-yeah, just warn me next time." She jokes, while he pulls her lower body onto his face, lightly trapping her clit between his plump lips.

She places her hands on his shoulders, while the bottom of her dress slightly covers his face.

"Oh shit.... that feels so good." She moans, pressing her fingers into his skin as he dips his tongue into her.

Gripping the bottom of her dress, he travels back up to her clit, suckling it into his mouth. Tossing her head back, she cries out.

"Fuck, baby!" His sucking becomes fervent, causing her to try and lift up, but he grabs her hips, keeping her in place.

"Okay— oh fuck!" Her hands cover his own, trying to pry them off her hips.

He groans against her, making matters worse. "You're gonna make me cum!"

Her hands grip the top of his head as she gyrates against his mouth. A chain of profanities fly from her lips as she unravels right on his tongue.

Pressing kisses against her inner thigh, his deep chuckle sends her closing them around his face. "I can't feel my legs..." she breathes.

Sliding off of him, she lays on her back as he hovers over her, wrapping her left leg around his, still clothed, waist.

Snaking a hand in between them, she unbuttons his jeans and tugs on them, "take these off."

"Yes ma'am." He pecks her lips, before stripping down, putting a condom on and crawling back between her legs, sinking into her in one fluid motion.

He swallows her moans with a french kiss, while he digs into her as deep as possible. Her hands wrap around his body, tightly.

Pulling away for air, she deeply gasps, feeling him tap on her spot. "Right there, baby..."

Staying right where she needs him, he stuffs his face into her neck, sucking and kissing on her hot spots.

Tingles of pleasure shoot through her body, making her chest press against his, involuntarily.

"Shit..." her nails dig into his back, making him wince slightly. "Faster,"

Obliging, his strokes increase as he begins slamming into her. Her mouth falls open, her harsh breathing runs in with her never-ending moans.

Pulling away from her neck, he hovers over her, pecking her bottom lip. "I'm making you feel good?"

"Yes,"

"Yeah?" He smirks, watching her eyes roll back.

"Yessss— don't stop!"

Sliding a hand underneath her head, he gently grips a handful of her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck. Placing sweet kisses along her skin, he continues to dig into her.

Moving her hands up to grip his shoulders, she wraps her legs around his waist. "I'm gonna cum!" She whines with her head tossed back into the pillows.

"Cum for me, babygirl." Her body goes rigid against him as her walls suck him up, causing him to slightly hunch forward and firmly plant his hand on the bed, beside her head.

Continuing to rock inside of her, her grip on his shoulders tightens.

"Fuck!," her body shudders as he gradually comes to a stop, knowing she can only handle so much.

"I love you," Rod whispers against her lips, unhooking her legs from around his waist.

"I love you, too."

"Roll over on your stomach, for me."

Sensually flipping over, she pulls her dress off and puts that famous arch in her back, causing Rod to grunt from behind her. "I really wanna go easy on you, tonight.... but you play too much."

"What if I don't want you to go easy on me?" She looks at him over her shoulder, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"Is that right," he chuckles and grips her hips, pulling her towards the edge of the bed and pushing the middle of her back down, further.

"Mmhm— ooh!" He slaps her ass.

"You sure this whatchu want?" He asks, wrapping her hair up in his hand, ultimately pushing the side of her face into the mattress.

"Yes, daddy." She places her hands on his thighs, feeling him slide all the way inside of her.

"Daddy, huh?." He chuckles to himself, beginning to drive in and out of her with an intense force that sends her clawing at his thighs.

"Ohh fuuuuck!"

"Shut up," he grunts. If this were any other instance, she'd be pissed, but in this case, she's more aroused than ever.

The clapping of her ass against his thighs, sounds throughout the room, adding to their pleasure.

"What we celebratin' today, babygirl?"

"Mmm! Our anni–fuck!" Her legs tremble as he hits her spot. Releasing her hair, he wraps his hand around her throat.

"Come on, babygirl... what's today?"

"Our anniversaryyyy! That's my spot, baby!" She pushes his leg, only to have him grip her arm up with his free hand.

"Right here?"

"Ughhh,"

"This the spot that make that pussy cry? Huh?" He speeds up, knocking up against it, heavily.

"Yes! Fu-uck! I can't— I can't take it—"

"You gon' take this dick. What's my name?"

"Daddyyy," a shiver goes up his spine at the way it rolls off her tongue.

"Goddamn... what daddy say?"

"Take this dick," she repeats through clenched teeth. Her toes curl as her orgasm begins to quickly approach.

"I'm gonna— I'm gonna cum! Ohhh shhhhit!" She unravels for a third time, trying desperately to move away from his strokes as he continues to pound into her.

"Ah! Sto— stop!" She taps his thigh with her free hand, signaling that she's tapping out. He finally stops and releases his hold on her, watching as she lays flat on the bed and catches her breath.

"I told you." Rod shrugs, cockily.

Stevie eventually faces the opposite end of the bed, beginning to stroke his thick, shiny length in her tiny hand. "Can I try something?"

"You can do whatever you want." Keeping eye contact with him, she licks the underside of his dick, earning a grunt from him.

Giggling to herself, she lowers her wet mouth down onto him, watching as his bottom lip disappears in between his teeth. "Fuck, vie."

She hums as she bobs her head, being offered a strangled moan in return. "Just like that."

Reaching out with both hands, he gathers her wild hair into his hands as she continues to bring him to his peak. Her eyes never leave his.

"Fuuuuck," he tosses his head back, feeling his restraint slip. His hips start to gyrate against her face as he gets closer.

A slight gag alerts him to look down, but she just sends a wink his way. He shakes his head at her, completely surprised in this moment.

"I'm gonna cum, baby." She moans, egging him on. He grips her hair, fighting the urge to fuck her mouth with the same passion as he did her pussy, a little earlier.

"Oh fuck.... I'm cummin.," his brows scrunch as he shoots down her throat, growling as he watches her swallow every drop.

"Mm," she releases him with a pop, "you taste good, Daddy."

"You're gonna be the death of me."

@thegifstories @sheabuttahwrites @soufcakmistress @supersizemeplz @harmshake @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @zataria @neewrites @blowmymbackout @lemmewritesomeish @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @cecereads209 @nayaxwrites @ibeoutchea @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @abeautifulmindexposed @awerkofart @headcannonxgalore

#miyuhpapayuh #soulff #rod x stevie #black romance #poc writers #blackwriters #90s romance #black reader #x black!reader #black!reader #joey badass fic #joey bada$$

[blackstarchanx3new]

Creations AU, But I obnoxiously over explain it PT 11

Pages 301-330

Again thanks to @akdrawsandwrites for helping with some of these pages, I can't remember which but I recognize a few of them as theirs. X'D They did a great job lining and coloring a few of these. Apricate it immensely.

We hitting end game what I have page wise guys.

Thanks for baring with my nonsense. I hope to finish the FNAF 1 arc. But I will post the other side comics and long winded explanations of those. X'D Hope you've enjoyed Creations so far! It was a labor of love because I love FNAF. A lot...

Can I just say I like Freddy and Mike's dynamic.

I like Freddy a lot in Creations because he's like, so NOT fannon Freddy in all the ways that hits me in the "Aww yeah that's good shit" way. X'D

He's a flamboyant full of gender slut that is scared of ghosts despite BEING A POSSESSED ROBOT lmfao. His design just hits my brain in a nice way too. He's so cute.

He gives sassy drag queen vibes and I like him.

I am not really a fan of fannon Freddy unless it's like super specific circumstances.

I'm going to dip into "I hate this trope" territory but keep in mind you are not obligated to write around my preferences. Or even force yours to fit mine. That'd be dumb. Write what makes you happy I'm just talking about shit I don't enjoy personally.

Bitch mode activated:

If you're going with him being possessed by a child, which a LOT of people do to stay cannon it makes ZERO sense for him to be a sensible leader type unless you like GIVE HIM A REASON? Which most people don't. Most people also make him a bitch which I hate.(And not in a campy gay bitch way like Creations Freddy that makes the queer part of me laugh and relate to) I'm not sure I understand the idea of making Freddy so damn unlikable in a story based on the franchise ABOUT HIM??? Like...It's so fucking overdone I'm sorry lmfao be a bit more damn creative. Don't be lazy? Give him a damn personality outside of "Cunt for no reason with a stick up his ass" like? Idk? Be FUN with him! Does he feel the NEED to be the leader because he's designed that way by the company? Does the stress EAT at him? If you DO go the route of making him posessed by a child: Did he feel the need to grow up and act more adult. How often does he fail at this task? What are the consequences? People's bad writing makes me think of reasons for him that aren't in the text 99% of the damn time. Quite frankly: I am not a fan of popular fnaf comics. Like any of them. X'D They feel really soul-less a lot of the time in a way I can't quite describe...

A lot of the creators hate working on them, hate their fanbase and hate the games past a certain point so that's probs why lmfao. I've gotten pissed at the fans on Webtoon, and gotten pissed at how much of a slog some scenes and I've considered quitting once or twice, but never cause I hated the actual games, or the comic and story of Creations, just cause some scenes are annoying to work on from a writer's perspective or cause people misinterpreted the story so bad they had no clue what was going on. I fucking love FNAF and wanted to make a fan story that you could tell came from a place of love.

Here's some pitfalls to avoid:

Don't start hating your own characters. It will hurt your writing. I've noticed LOTS of FNAF comic makers start to hate their own damn characters. PUT. THE. COMIC. DOWN. I AM SERIOUS.

If you start to despise your own work. STOP. TAKE A BREAK. REFELCT. Maybe it won't be PERMINENT but until you can sort out what your deal is STOP.

You are doing NO ONE favors by continuing to the point you start actively shit talking everyone and everything that comes into contact with this story that way.

If you noticed: I STARTED FALLING INTO THAT SHIT. OH GOD BLACKSTAR HAS FLAWS! O.O

Me doing THIS, talking about how I love my own comic appreciating how much time and work I put into it: all the goofy fun stuff I put in as easter eggs the characters ex, was a way to reinvent my feelings towards this comic because I WANT TO FINISH IT and it's helped a lot. FIND JOY IN THE PROCESS OF CREATION. ;)

If you aren't liking FNAF as much as you used too: Literally just go back and watch smth you liked about it before. The ruin DLC sparked my shit back into gear, watching old lets plays and listening to fan music also helped. Just. Idk. Engage with the thing you're making a damn comic about? Like, find out what you loved to begin with.

I have like 4+ comics I work on in rotation when I'm not in the mood to work on one. Variety helps me too.

Another thing I'd advise against: Don't make a big diaper baby blow out scene about "Leaving" a fanbase. It's fucking embarrassing. If you don't feel the spark, you don't feel it. That's FINE. As an autistic person: My interests change like a girl changes clothes.

But don't literally shit your pants and make a scene about it people will look back at you as the person who shat their pants in front of everyone and embarrassed themselves.

If you're asking yourself "Is star talking about X artist?" honey I'm talking about at least 4 different ones I've seen do this exact thing and I got second hand embarrassment every time. If you resent the popularity you got from certain fanbases: I'm sorry the best thing to do is move on. Yes. Again I speak from experience. (Not FNAF, but a different fanbase)

If you don't get as much recognition on your OG works: Tough shit I'm sorry that's how it is. As someone who does OC comics I've accepted "Some people just won't read this cause FNAF isn't attached, and that's okay. I am the same way. You cannot expect people to love everything you create"

As a child/teen, watching actual adults do this shit made me the person I am today but deciding: "Nah that's dumb, I am getting second hand embarrassment and I am not behaving that way"

Childishness is something big artists need to learn is a problem before they get big. Temper tantrums aren't a cute look for anyone.

It's okay to get in over your head with shit. Just try to be calm about things here's things that overtime I've learned help me cope with huge projects:

They're meant to be fun. If you aren't having fun: Figure out why and change it. You aren't obligated to finish them. You can always come back. Another reason to not "shit your pants" as I call it. People will love to see more from your comic if you put it down and come back. :) It's more embarrassing to shit your pants and then come back like you never did and try to keep going. Keep doors open if you would. My "Shit your pants" moment singlehandedly keeps me away from one fandom lmfao avoid it if you can. Try not to be a cunt about the thing that GOT you popular. You will look like a class act clown I guarantee it. If people don't understand your comic and that is causing frustration, I genuinely advise making a "Director's commentary" style thing like this. It's a lot of fun. X'D And it might give people perspective into your madness.

This doesn't help if you're just a control freak tho lmfao.

Anyways, enough of my blabbing about my history watching old fandom artists assassinate their own characters for all to see in the most embarrassing and violent fashion, and how that irreversibly changed me as a person, back to the actual damn comic.

Interrupted. He has no respect for Mike.

So Freddy describes typical haunting behavior for ghosts. Smells and SOME people are spiritually inclined while some aren't. As we've seen Mike for example can't see ghosts unless they WANT him to see them.

Sammy apparently can see ghosts and is considered "Insane" we can kiiiinda see why from earlier. X'D

It's safe to say Mike took that personally.

Awkward.

Default to insults Freddy, it's okay we understand you're perfect- Freddy you stupid idiot you should have kept your mouth shut it's not nice to call mentally ill people "Freaks".

Mike REASONABLY asks if the ghosts are REAL and considering we know 1 is for certain Sammy's not "Bonkers" according to Freddy.

Freddy just showing off his personality like usual.

Freddy he can't make eye contact. HE'S AUTISTIC.

Anyways even Freddy's noticed Sammy's eyes are weird.

Okay funny thing: Freddy was going to make a dick sucking joke but none I came up with were very funny.

If I remember right one was smth like "You always sound like you just choked on a dick" or something like that??? Something this vulgar makes sense from Creations Freddy but I decided to tone it back a little. X'D I also felt it was very mean.

Freddy's mean enough as it is lmfao.

Freddy stop sexualizing the night guard-

Uh oh-

Your daily reminder Mike is short-

Freddy is the worst. But I love him.

Chica giving sass for that. She doesn't apear much but I like her.

Foxy got thanos snapped lmfao I had no idea what to do with him in this comic ngl. X'DDDDDDD

Maybe he'll show up later...Maybe.

He showed up in the OG shitpost version of this comic and Bonnie sold him out for cigarettes.

Our boys meet up once again. :)

Michael couldn't see him the previous day for whatever reason.

PFF. JUST LIKE AN ANIME MAN!

Also Mike that's harassment...

Lmfao. I don't remember exactly when I decided Mike was trans but I know it was FAILRY early on. Not there were many references to it.

The fact color wise: he's a walking pride flag is kinda a clue I suppose. X'D

Oh mah goodness. Oh my damn. It's the other Freddy.

HAHA OH WHAT MIKE?

Well shit there's a TON of victims then.

Bonnie. Your buddy is a murderer-

Hehehe yeah but you're also a short king buddy-

Hahaha. So this thing eats children nice to know.

Mike being a smart boy like usual.

Hehe. Face plates. :)

Mike doesn't wanna be around this thing, and I can't blame him. Also I find it genuinely hilarious how half the panels in some of these pages are drawn by me, and half are drawn by AK.

We get into pages I can't be bothered to color the remaining pages are colored kinda randomly. Funtime Freddy as you can probebly tell is ANNOYING to color. He has SO MANY COLORS it got very overwhelming trying to color him. I'm sorry but that's how it is lmfao. X'D I wanna be done with the FNAF 1 arc:

Cool thing tho, if I ever want to color em the characters are white so I can just slap a multiply layer on and go brrrr with color.

Anyways, they both decide to leave at the same time.

I'm sure nothing will come of this. :)

Hehehhehehe he knows something....

OH GOD.

Oh fuck. Mike got vored.

I'm sorry I have to make this joke, vore is terrible and I hate it I've made that very well known and joking about how much I despise it is how I cope.

Having said that: I love the stomach hatch idea/being trapped inside an animatronic.

It's like the Springlock mechanic taken to the next level lmfao. Complete and utter hopelessness on the end of the person inside, claustrophobia, IMANENT DEATH, IT'S HORRIFYING AND I LOVE IT. >:)

A+ Horror idea.

OBVIOUSLY: this is based on COUNT THE WAYS from the 1st Fazbear's Fright novels.

Can I just say, Luring and trapping people this way is so fucking creative I LOVE THE SL ROBOTS. Like, it's just so cool of an idea because it already kinda plays off the idea from FNAF 1 that there's children STUFFED inside the FNAF 1 robots. (As a way to hide them)

but SL robots do that, but TRANSPORT said children/use their chambers to KILL said children and harvest remnant. THAT IS SO DARKLY AWESOME.

IK we're all hyping up the MIMIC and it's ability to copy people's voices but uh: FUNTIME FOXY DID THAT SHIT FIRST FROM THEIR BLUEPRINTS.

I'm sad to this DAY people don't use Funtime Foxy's voice mimic mechanic in fan content. THAT'S AWESOME.

I like the trap mechanic and how it's used again for the twisted ones. It's such a great idea to make a robot that's friendly on the outside but is basically a fucking iron maiden on the inside. Like DAMN. THAT GOES SO HARD!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!! :D

Also all the short jokes have a purpose: Mike's small enough to fit inside Funtime Freddy. Because he's built to capture kids.

Something I worry about with Funtime Freddy:

He is a FAN FAVORITE In Creations. Like. People like him. A LOT.

I made a lot of side comics with him and Bon Bon. Where Bon Bon is his emotional support bunny rabbit. People really liked that. Because Funtime Freddy was showing relatable autistic behavior (He struggles with shit I do lmao.)

I'm worried about 'Ruining' his character for people hah.

He's a butt-

GUESS WHO GOT RE-ENVIGORATED TO DRAW PAGES.

Me. After the movie.

Mike's having a harder time keeping his composure.

I feel like the reason is obvious: SL robots are literally only built to kill people, he's in the most dangerous part of the building, and Funtime Freddy's a wacko.

Haha. Word play. Funtime Freddy did not detect the albeit minimal exaggeration in what Bonnie said. Poor dude.

Haha will to live.

Funtime Freddy's out for blood.

More confirmation who our villain is.

So if you're not a Creations AU veteran, Funtime Freddy is just easily swayed by someone calming him down.

Mike's pretty good at faking shit.

Bon Bon isn't here rn, so Mike's taking on the role of "Calm the giant anxious bear down"

WE HAVE ALSO REACHED IMAGE CAP. SO WE WILL CAAAAARRYYYY OOOOOON-

Ending note: watched the FNAF movie again last night.

#fnaf #fnaf comic #fnaf creations au #creations au #freddy #tw horror #mike schmidt #freddy fazbear #william afton #fnaf chica #chica the chicken #funtime freddy

[supanuts]

(2/2)

And the clearest example is how he’s aware of Way’s feelings for him, has been for a while, but not only is he very dismissive of them (picture their hallway conversation when Way is clearly emotional and upset and for the first time actually addresses the elephant in the room (which takes a lot of courage), only for Babe to be all ‘yeah I know – ugh did you have to actually say it out loud?? - but, like…Charlie! Now let me caress your shoulder while I reassure you we’re still best buds!’ or the way he reacts like it’s all a bit tiresome whenever someone else brings it up) - Babe makes a conscious choice to NOT discuss it with Way, and more importantly to NOT draw any boundaries tween them. At best he’s just being extremely careless with Way’s feelings, especially when he jokes about them being bfs, but at worst, one could argue that his flirtatiousness is in fact an intentional manipulation of said feelings in order to keep Way where he wants him, which is at his beck and call. Babe doesn’t care to look any deeper because there’s nothing in it for him – as long as he has Way by his side, adoring him, he’s satisfied. Any awkward niggling thoughts about how actually this probably isn’t a healthy dynamic and this guy needs to get a life outside of me and in retrospect it’s a little strange that I know literally nothing about him get pushed aside in order to maintain that status quo.

Now, unlike half the characters in this show, I’m capable of self-reflection: I know that I could extend some of the sympathy I have for Way due to his shitty past (and present) to Babe, and speculate that Babe’s selfishness, his need to keep Way with him even if it’s detrimental to Way’s wellbeing, is merely a consequence of his own shitty past, his fear of being alone; that his inability to deal with this situation is a result of his own emotional maladjustment at Tony’s hands. That’s all very likely to be true. BUT! Babe has the whole internet ready to kill for him, so sorry but he doesn’t need me to do the same! What can I say - I feel obligated to stick up for the underdog, no matter how much of a fucked up wrong’un said underdog might be! (Of course there’s also the entirely plausible possibility that all this is just the fault of shoddy writing - as long as characters keep repeating that this really is a deep and wholesome and 100% reciprocated friendship then we the audience are duty-bound to believe it!)

In conclusion (if you got this far - apologies!): Way is a pathetic but tragic character who didn’t deserve the hand he was dealt (but does deserve lifelong therapy), whose motivations are much more complex and heart-wrenching than many seem able/willing to recognise/acknowledge. Babe is selfish and a shitty friend, but that is perhaps understandable given his experiences. SA (and mind-fucking your friend) is NEVER excusable, no matter how awful your life or how bad your daddy issues; neither is it EVER the fault of the victim. All of these things can be true at the same time, and it wouldn’t hurt to remember that.

Your Honour, I rest my case!

P. S. Internet, please don't be mad at me! Everyone's of course entitled to their own opinion (variety is the spice of life and all that!) and the remaining eps might totally destroy this interpretation, but at the end of the day, it's just a show, and I'm just a socially anxious contrarian overthinker with a penchant for well-acted morally dubious pretty boys!

i think i tend to be more positive/look for the more favourable explanation and so my opinion on the hallway conversation (which: hurty) is that babe is extreeeemely unprepared to talk about feelings. which is funny because his friendship with way reads as very intense to me, and they’re pretty dramatic with their words too? but it’s clear babe has no experience in this area, both talking about it and feeling it, and it shows precisely in how careless he is with way’s feelings. and again, the jokes about being bfs babe i will hunt you down you cannot be this dense! please! but also i don’t think he would see anything unhealthy in how powerful way’s attachment to him is because i think, up until charlie showed up, they both acted like that with each other. (my poor way…)

don’t apologise! this has taken me five million hours to reply to but it has been worth every. second. and honestly while as i’ve just said i don’t totally agree with your interpretation of babe and his actions and feelings towards way i do think you make great points and can see why you’re interpreting something in a different way than i do. also i love to read what people are thinking. meta is my favourite thing in the world, so unless it’s something horrifying to me i am going to enjoy it lol

#pit babe #pit babe the series #asks #anon #way anon

[mariana-oconnor]

The Cardboard Box pt 1

An uninspiring title, but apparently it's controversial? All my brain is thinking (I am still le tired) is 'Big fish, little fish, cardboard box' over and over again.

If you don't get that reference, that's probably for the best. the early noughties were weird.

Anyway. I hereby do swear that this time I shall read the text more carefully and all my claims, accusations and harebrained ideas will be based in textual evidence and not mere vibes alone. One cannot thrive on vibes alone!

I'm going to try anyway. I may still dislike characters on principle, though.

He did however take a particular fancy to some of the paragraphs at the beginning of the tale and urged me adapt them for later revisions of my story ‘The Resident Patient’, which I sent to you in January.

OK, so is this going to be an AU version of The Resident Patient? Because I feel like that gives me a head start on the guessing.

I did a side by side of the two and overall it seems pretty much the same, except we're now in August and it's blazing hot. I shudder to think how Watson would have described August in the UK last year. Then we have the discussion about Holmes reading Watson's mind body language. Until we get to the first significant difference:

"Have you observed in the paper a short paragraph referring to the remarkable contents of a packet sent through the post to Miss Cushing, of Cross Street, Croydon?” "No, I saw nothing."

Aha, the titular cardboard box, one wonders?

Watson is really falling behind in his paper reading duties. Holmes is doing all the legwork here. Honestly. You just can't get a good chronicler these days! But he's still making Watson read it aloud.

Holmes does like hearing things read aloud. He'd be all over audiobooks, but he's got Watson for that so it's all good.

I picked up the paper which he had thrown back to me and read the paragraph indicated. It was headed, “A Gruesome Packet.”

Ooooh, I think I might remember a bit of this one. I might remember what's in the box, anyway.

Sorry, that was my contractual obligation.

“Miss Susan Cushing, living at Cross Street, Croydon, has been made the victim of what must be regarded as a peculiarly revolting practical joke unless some more sinister meaning should prove to be attached to the incident."

If it's what I think it is then practical jokes were significantly more aggressive in the Victorian Era. I don't think even TikTok has graduated to this level. We're getting a pretty weird look at the 1800s English sense of humour: beating other children with sticks and... this.

"A cardboard box was inside, which was filled with coarse salt."

Everyone needs some seasoning on their... "two human ears [...] quite freshly severed".

Okay, poor taste, poor taste. I know it's there for preservation. Also weirdly I thought it was going to be fingers. Don't know why I thought that. But yes, this is quite the jape, my friend. I just cut off some human ears and sent them to you.

How is this a practical joke? These are genuine freshly cut ears. Even if they're from a cadaver, that's theft and criminal damage at the very least. Isn't it? And I thought they were particularly strict on stuff like that in the 1800s. We're a little late for the Resurrection Man and Burke and Hare, but they did not like people messing around with corpses.

Okay, research research: 'The Anatomy Act of 1832 made it legal for corpses from workhouses that remained unclaimed after forty-eight hours to be used to satisfy the demands of the anatomists.'

Welp, I guess it was okay to do anything to corpses if they were the corpses of poor people with no friends or family (or at least no friends/family who could afford to claim them).

I mean, on one hand it stopped people from being murdered and science needed bodies to learn how bodies work better (good lord did we need to learn how bodies work better) but on the other hand, this does make me uncomfortable. Workhouse in life, still put to work in death. Also, from a purely scientific viewpoint, your sample is biased. You need some rich people bodies in there, too.

"There is no indication as to the sender, and the matter is the more mysterious as Miss Cushing, who is a maiden lady of fifty, has led a most retired life, and has so few acquaintances or correspondents that it is a rare event for her to receive anything through the post."

So, either she's secretly running an underground crime ring. Or the ears were meant for someone else with the name S. Cushing.

"...she let apartments in her house to three young medical students..."

Oh, yeah, fine. All makes sense now. Medical students are fucking feral. I have met literally one in my life who I would have been comfortable to have as a doctor, and I think he was just really good at hiding it. Guy once got 'kidnapped' by an entire female hockey team and ended up in an entirely different city. Another one I know just kept a dead squirrel in the shared freezer so he could do dissection practice on it.

I'd put the Dead Dove, Do Not Eat gif, but he didn't even label the fucker.

"...their noisy and irregular habits..."

Medical students... yeah.

"In the meantime, the matter is being actively investigated, Mr. Lestrade, one of the very smartest of our detective officers, being in charge of the case.”

Oh hai, Lestrade!

At least the police are putting an actual detective on the case and not just saying 'oh it's a silly prank' and ignoring the transportation of human body parts. Was it illegal to send human remains by the royal mail at that time?

“I think that this case is very much in your line. We have every hope of clearing the matter up, but we find a little difficulty in getting anything to work upon."

'We're totally going to do this, we just don't have... any idea how. But we totally could!'

"The box is a half-pound box of honeydew tobacco and does not help us in any way."

Did somebody say... TOBACCO?

A specialist subject has entered the chat.

If Holmes doesn't use his extensive and very detailed knowledge of tobacco to help solve this case, I will be v. disappoint.

Lestrade, as wiry, as dapper, and as ferret-like as ever...

Watson is contractually obliged to remind you that Lestrade looks like a ferret every time he appears. His publisher insists on it.

I'm informed that an antimacassar is an arm cover for an armchair or sofa. My Nana used to have them. They had tassels and I'd get told off for plaiting the threads in the tassels together. Good times.

“Why in my presence, sir?” “In case he wished to ask any questions.” “What is the use of asking me questions when I tell you I know nothing whatever about it?”

Miss Cushing has very strong Done With This energy and I am here for it. Those are not her ears. She has perfectly good ones thank you very much, and she does not need any more. Why are you still bothering her?

“Quite so, madam,” said Holmes in his soothing way. “I have no doubt that you have been annoyed more than enough already over this business.”

Holmes once again showing that he does have emotional intelligence no matter what people might think.

“The importance lies in the fact that the knot is left intact, and that this knot is of a peculiar character.”

Oh, not the tobacco knowledge, but the knot knowledge. I see 'peculiar' and 'knot' in the same sentence and I immediately think 'sailing'.

Address printed in rather straggling characters: ‘Miss S. Cushing, Cross Street, Croydon.’ Done with a broad-pointed pen, probably a J, and with very inferior ink. The word ‘Croydon’ has been originally spelled with an ‘i’, which has been changed to ‘y’.

Our sender has poor handwriting and poor spelling, then. The 'wrong person' theory is growing stronger. The likelihood that Miss Cushing is a criminal mastermind diminshes. Shame.

He took out the two ears as he spoke, and laying a board across his knee he examined them minutely.

Is he wearing gloves? Please tell me he's wearing gloves.

“Bodies in the dissecting-rooms are injected with preservative fluid. These ears bear no signs of this. They are fresh, too. They have been cut off with a blunt instrument, which would hardly happen if a student had done it."

This feels like something the police should already have noticed. If the questions are 'Where did these ears come from? Has a crime been committed?' you would think someone would have considered whether they were from a preserved corpse or someone fresh. I know that policing has changed a lot since then and forensic medicine wasn't really a thing, but clearly they suspected foul play was a possibility, because Lestrade called for Holmes.

"We know that this woman has led a most quiet and respectable life at Penge and here for the last twenty years. She has hardly been away from her home for a day during that time."

Oh, Lestrade. The things you can do without leaving your home. She might have anyone buried under the floorboards. She might have been sending blackmail letters to her neighbours. She might have been doing any number of things. I still think the wrong person got the parcel, but saying that she's just too respectable for this is very optimistic of you.

I do agree that if she knew what the ears were about, she probably wouldn't have told anyone about them. Unless she's in such a secure position that she doesn't think anyone would ever trace anything back to her. In most situations, it wouldn't be the best move.

"One of these ears is a woman's, small, finely formed, and pierced for an earring."

Did no men wear earrings in Victorian times? Admittedly, probably not 'respectable' men, but the knot's already pointing me at sailor (as is the tarring on the string, tbh) and it used to be a thing that tattoos were mostly a sailor thing over here, and piercing is a similar kind of body art. So a woman or a sailor with small ears.

omg. pirates.

"The other is a man's, sun-burned, discoloured, and also pierced for an earring."

Oh, okay, so the earring wasn't the thing. Doesn't prevent the first ear from belonging to a small pirate, though. Sunburned also makes me think sailors. They have to be outside a lot with no shade. Sunburn on your ears is the worst. They have my sincere sympathy.

Also, y'know, cause they got their ear cut off - with a blunt blade, which... eesh.

"These two people are presumably dead, or we should have heard their story before now."

I mean, they could have been kidnapped and this could be proof of life. These days if you get an unsolicited body part in the real life mail the mind does go to kidnapping. Maybe that originates here - but they have no way of knowing whether the ear was detached ante or post mortem at this point, do they? So it's more proof of having, rather than proof of life. And I don't think I'd recognise my friends or family by their ears, so it's not even really that. If the earrings had been attached then I might recognise them.

Yeah... s'weird. But it doesn't necessarily mean they're dead. Although... Victorian hygiene and understanding of germ theory.

...

Yeah, they've got sepsis. They're dead.

Question spiral! Holmes just asking himself question after question is very relatable. And bringing up all relevant points about how if Miss Cushing knows what's going on, taking the ears to the police but telling them nothing is the weirdest possible response.

I'm assuming that the subject of this email is wrong, because if this is part 1 of 1, there is no conclusion to this story and so without further evidence, I am forced to believe that one large pirate and one small pirate, genders unknown, are currently dead/dying of sepsis and the true recipient of these ears, M. S Cushing (any or all letters interchangeable) has heard nothing of their fate. Although, given it was in the newspaper, they probably have heard about it by now. So maybe they don't need the ears.

No idea why the ears were sent though. Proof of a hit? Proof of life? Just a creepy serial killer who likes to send the ears of their past victim to their next victim? Probably not that one, seems a bit Criminal Minds for a Sherlock Holmes story, but you never know.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Cardboard Box #Modern Sherlock this is a live unboxing video gone wrong #long post

[russellsppttemplates]

It's about time I show you (Pierre Gasly)

Four times Pierre and Y/N acted on their feelings and one time they finally decided they were done hiding

Note: english is not my first language

Thank you to the people who gave their feedback to my post, ultimately it was between Pierre, George and Mick and since there was no way to break the tie, I decided to go with Pierre, but I have kept the other two in mind for the next pieces I write! Last week I did post a bit for Mick (after this app did not let me post it in one single post) and I had something else in mind for him too! 🤍 Anyhow, I have some planned ideas for future content as I'm on a bit of a countdown before uni is back

(I got inspiration from a these 'nonsexual acts of intimacy' lists on pinterest x x)

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: mentions of (athlete's) diet plans

When Pierre said he wanted to go to a small concert in one of Milan's parks, you never thought it would be this busy. The entrance looked to have a lot more people than the usual Tuesday late afternoon but, standing in the middle of the grass where you usually lay a blanket and lay down anyway you want while reading a book, the same blanket was now folded in half and was accommodating you and your bestfriend Pierre. Sure, you could have layed the blanket down in the usual way but you didn't want to be a nuisance to the other people who, like you, wanted to have some off time of their busy lives, so you and Pierre sat comfortably in the blanket as you waited for another singer to begin their show, "You know, if you weren't a giant, your legs would fit in this blanket just fine, see?", you nodded to your legs once you noticed how the French man kept switching his legs' position from bending and crossing them, careful to not bother the family that sat in front of you. He only laughed at your teasing, "Do you want anything to eat or drink? I could go to the food stalls and grab something while we wait for the next on", Pierre asked, his hands propped on his sides and ready to lift his body up if you gave a positive answer, "I don't want anything, for now at least, but you can go get anything if you want. Do you want me to go with you? I can ask the lady to watch the blanket", you suggested, "No, I'm good too", he said smiling. A few minutes passed as you engaged in casual conversation about your jobs, his driver obligations way more interesting to talk about than your own routine day, until a guy with a guitar got up on the stage and started playing some acoustic music, everyone lightly swaying their body, sitting down still, to the rhythm of the music. Pierre couldn't help but smile as he looked at you. Long gone were the days where you would spend hours together daily, now sticking to texting nearly everyday, as you were now adults with very different job schedules and calendars, and getting together everytime you could find some time, so naturally he was smiley. Seeing you so relaxed and so beautiful, your eyes closed, leaving your lashes to settle on your freckly cheeks as you enjoyed the whole situation made his heart skip a beat. Getting up once the show finished, "I'm actually a bit hungry now, what do you say we go and grab some food?", you tempted, earning a nod from Pierre as you finished shaking the blanket to get out any grass and dirt, stuffing it into your bag as you made your way to the previous food stalls you had talked about.

Like you had that idea, everyone else in the park though the same, the cues to the stalls were getting bigger and bigger, you and Pierre deciding quickly what you wanted to have before the cues got even longer, "If I had known the cues would be like this I would have gotten here sooner", Pierre said, "It's fine, we can wait", you yelped slightly as someone tried to squeeze past you with their food, apologising to you as they excused themsleves. Seeing how people were getting closer together, Pierre felt a sudden need to protect you and have you within his grasp, "Hold my hand please, I don't want to lose you", he said, stretching his arm the best be could to find your hand and clasp it in his. When you finally got your food, Pierre stretched his neck to look for the nearest way to get out of that commotion, rhe bag on one of his hands as the other one stayed clasped in yours, guiding you away as he kept politely asking people to move so you could go through and sit somewhere quieter, "See? My long legs are useful after all, how else do you think I could have gotten us away from that crowd?", Pierre winked at you as you both sat down in one of the picnic tables that were surprisingly free, people opting to go back to their where they watched the concert from.

The free practice sessions had been tough for Pierre, the car not reaching the pace the team wanted and leaving a nervous aura around the garage as they prepared for qualifying in the early afternoon.

Arriving in his driver room after an impromptu team meeting to go over the results, Pierre found you sitting in the sofa, "Hey you", you said lowly, not knowing how his mood was but wanting to show him some kind of support. He sat down next to you, fiddling with the rings on his fingers as he stayed silent, just taking in everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, how the car seemed weird in FP1 but maybe it was just a glitch, then FP2 coming around and the results just kept deteriorating, and after the late night meeting and the work from mechanics and engineers, FP3 couldn't have gone worse, even given everything that had happened. You stayed in silence for a good while until you heard him mumble, "I don't want to keep you in this awful mood, so feel free to go somewhere else", he said half harshly, immediately regretting how the words left his mouth in a tone that he never talked to you with. Getting up, Pierre thought to himself that it was his fault really, and was ready to hear the door open when you kneeled in the spot you were previously sitting in, your hands tentatively coming around his shoulders to test the waters as you rubbed your hands on them, feeling the tension on his muscles. Pierre let out a big sigh of relief, a mixture of being happy that you had stayed and the way your fingertips felt against his taunt muscles, "I'm sorry", he whispered as you shook your head, dismissing it just as quickly as you forgot about it, "just relax for a bit okay?", you asked as you got to work wirh your hands. Maybe if Pyry were seeing this he would find so many mistakes and things you shouldn't be doing but it just felt right at the time in helping Pierre release some of the stress that was bugging him since the day before. "I just feel like we had progressed well, things were finally heading to where we are supposed to be and then this...! And we can't seem to figure out what it is, if it is track specific and we have to wait, of if the car is going to be like this until the end of the season...! And then there's the media that are doing their job and I understand that but sometimes they just really really get in my nerves...", he exasperated, closing his eyes halfway the rant as he moved his torso a bit to meet your hands where he wanted the pressure. "There are very big brained people in that room", you referred to the team's engineers, mechanics and strategists, "that are going to find a way to make everything work, and hopefully it won't take them long", you said as you felt his body relax a little bit more, "Thank you for always being here, even in the bad stuff", he said remembering how you had always been there for him, wether it was the highlight of his career or the rock bottom moment, turning his neck slightly to press a kiss to your hands. You smiled back, feeling the skin where his lips were just seconds ago burn from the affection still.

"That is not how it was and you know it!", you yelled from the counter that separated your dining area from the kitchen area, putting the plates in the sink, "You were walking along the side of the boat, specifically after I told you to be careful because it was slippery from everyone getting out of the sea and boom! One feet after the other, you landed on your butt and nearly got yourself a nice cannonball jump", Pierre said, "you should have seen Charles, there are no words in the dictionary that could possibly describe the moment, it was beyond hilarious, it's a shame no one recorded that", he finished as both drivers "at least have some kindness and solidarity with me, I still can't sleep on my side from the bruise on my thigh", you pouted, "and you ego's bruise too", Charles whispered in a tone he thought was low enough, his giggles not helping the volume. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Charles Leclerc didn't get to have dessert", and he stopped, "but your recipe is the best, I even asked the dietician to have some of it, c'mon Y/N, I've laughed about worse things involving you and you know you've said some about me too, you're not so innocent either", he pointed the spoon at you. Charles spent his day in the factory in Maranello and decided to visit you and Pierre, making the two hours trip over and arriving just in time for the dinner you were cooking. You had met the monégasque when Pierre started mentioning this Charles friend he had met in the races when he attended one of his birthday parties and, despite initially feeling like your Pierre's best friend place was being taken away from you by him, you quickly learned that the place could hold the both of you and you had blossomed a beautiful friendship with him. And now Pierre was telling him about the three days of summer break you had been able to visit him and his family in the French Riviera region, your accident on the boat remaining a funny memory for everyone, "I'm not doing that because I'm not a bad person", you said as you got back to the table with the tray you were carrying the mousse in, giving everyone their serving. You noticed how Pierre had finished his and kept looking over at yours, and in the middle of the conversation you were having with Charles the upcoming races you were thinking of going, you slowly nudged your cup to Pierre's side, silently telling him you were willing to share and smiling faintly when he dug his spoon in. This, however, did not go unnoticed by Charles, "I nearly got no dessert and he, the guy who told the story, gets to repeat?", Charles teased, "Oh, I have more in the fridge if you want to", you said simply, getting up a d heading with the empty cups to the kitchen, "I don't want anymore, thank you though, but I guess there's just different treatment in this house", Charles said as he heard the coffee machine start, "a special treatment even", he finished, a knowing look on his face as he watched Pierre follow your every move with his eyes. Pierre had confided in one of his bestfriends about how he might really really like his other bestfriend and Charles had told him to be cautious: of course he wanted nothing more than for them to be happy, but he also advised Pierre to think a bit more about it, understand where he was and where you were in this whole situation because maybe once that line was crossed, things would never be the same.

You had woken up late on race day, your phone's alarm not doing enough noise to prompt you to wake up. You got up on a hurry, showering quickly as you grabbed the outfit you had planned for the day as you then grabbed the hairdryer in an attempt to tame your locks. As you made your way out of the hotel, you entered the Uber you had called and made your way to the track, taking in the calming views after a rushed morning. Apparently you had also been graced with rain on race day, and thanking the driver for the last time, you braved your way into the paddock, scanning your pass before hurrying through the rain until you reached the Alpha Tauri hospitality, looking down at how your parka had done little to protect you from the rain. "Y/N, dear, you're soaked!", you heard Fabiana's familiar voice, "Hi, good morning! Yeah, seems I am, I need to get these dry as soon as possible", you said as you took in your full state, "Well, luckily you are in the team that has their own clothing brand, follow me", she said as she took you to Pierre's driver room while she went to where they usually keep some clothing items in the hope that they would have your size available.

Your boilersuit was wet everywhere but your shoulders, "at least it seems the wind and the rain did not get here", you mumbled as you heard a knock on the door, "come in". Fabiana entered the room, "I found these Tapered Pants in your size, unfortunately we don't have anymore hoodies or t-shirts, they're sold out already", she said as she noticed that you were wearing a one piece clothing item, "Oh, don't worry Fabiana, this is amazing already! Thank you, I'll borrow something from Pierre, thank you so much again", you smiled, "No worries dear, glad I could help", she said, "And Y/N?", Fabiana finished, earning a hum from you as you were checking the pants, "It probably doesn't help much now, but it's not raining anymore", she said smiling before she left you to change. The black pants fit you surprisingly well for something found at the last minute, and with a quick flick through Pierre's clothes that were hung you were able to grab a simple white t-shirt you hoped he wouldn't mind. You were trying to tie your hair in a bun when you heard the door open, "Fabiana told me someone didn't do well in the rain today", he said, "Hi, you good?", he asked as he passed by you and helped you gather your hair at the nape of your neck, helping you with the flyaway hairs that insisted in staying up, "Morning! Yeah, but Fabiana as very kind and got me these pants from the team's collection, and they fit quite well too... and I got this t-shirt from your hanger, but I was thinking of going back to the hotel now that it's not raining anymore and chan-", you forwarded before Pierre interrupted, "Nonsense, no need for that. Besides, you look cute in the team's attire", he said before pressing his lips to the top of your head, grabbing his phone from his pocket and sitting on the sofa, bringing you with him as he showed you some videos. The action had left the butterflies go through your body, the cold chills from the wet clothing on your skin long gone as you appreciated the smile on Pierre's face as he showed you a challenge himself and Yuki had taken part in for the team's social media channels.

You were in Pierre's flat cooking dinner for the two of you on a Friday night since he didn't have a race that weekend, the water on the pot on the stove already boiling as you stirred the sauce on the other pan, "I'm already out of the shower", your bestfriend yelled before you heard what you assumed was his bedroom door, giving you the timing cue like you asked so you would know when to put the pasta in. You heard his steps down the stairs and crossing the corner to meet you in the kitchen, "Thank you again for sorting dinner, I was really needing it after that workout", he said as he grabbed your hand that held the wooden spoon as to help you stir the pasta. Things had been getting more touchy with Pierre, and you can't really say you didn't enjoy it. Sure, as bestfriends you had never had a problem with spending a lot of time with eachother, but recently you felt a weird shift in the air, both of you were bolder in your greetings, kisses on cheeks and forehead were a common reoccurrence and the hugs seemed to last a bit longer. And although the other wouldn't see it, friends and family also noticed that the looks and stares lasted longer too.

"See if this is good", you reluctantly took your hand away from his to go and grab a spoon from the drawer so he could taste the sauce, bringing the spoon to his mouth wirh your other hand in a shell shape to not let anything that might drip fall on your clothes, "a little bit more of basil maybe?", he said grabbing the glass container and adding more to the sauce before you got everything set on the table and enjoyed dinner.

You were now laying on the sofa, the news on the TV screen as you both got up to what was happening the world and soon, your eyes felt droopy and you fell asleep, cuddling further into the massive blanket you were sharing with Pierre. The french driver had been talking for a bit, giving his opinion on something one of the reporters had said and looked at you when you didn't reply, chuckling to himself as he admired your sleeping figure. Soon, midnight was approaching and he knew better than to just let his eyes rest a bit before he would get you in his arms and tucked in the spare bedroom's bed. Five minutes turned to ten, and ten turned into hours, rhe sofa large and comfortable enough for the two of you to spend the night there if you wished.

The sun started flickering through the curtains when you woke up, feeling some tingles on your leg as you tried to make sense of where you were. This is not your bedroom. This isn't even a bedroom, this is Pierre's living room and that's when you felt someone next to you. Pierre was sleeping still, although the sunlight that persisted and landed on his eyes prompted him to rustle in his sleep, "Oh, I fell asleep didn't I?", his groggy morning voice was heard as you giggled, "Apparently, and somehow we're all tangled", you referred to your tingly right leg shin that had been caught between Pierre's thighs. "Did you feel that shift too? Or was it just me?", Pierre said out loud, willing to take the risk, "How everything seemed deeper, more meaningful... when was it? I think I've felt it since I grabbed your hand in the park, I was so scared someone would grab you or that I'd lose you in there", he mused as his blue eyes focused on yours. Looking for his hand under the blanket, your hand clasped is his as you found it, "For me, it was when we were with your parents the other day, when they came to visit, when we went to the restaurant and you had your hands on my back to guide me to the table and everyone assumed I was your girlfriend and I wasn't... totally grossed out by the idea?", you giggled as you felt the blush of your cheeks, "it felt really nice, and I slept really good tonight". Getting impossibly closer to you, Pierre freed his hand from yours only to place them on each of your cheeks, "what if we try something between us? Just something between us for now, see how this goes...", he said, "it's about time I show you how much you meant to me", he finished with a chaste kiss on your lips, sealing all the promised he intended to keep.

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly × reader

[long-suffering-little-spoon]

I JUST REALIZED THAT YOU WATCHED THE OFMD FINALE

H-

How are you feeling 🥲🥲🥲

Pahaha not swimmingly, I'll just say. First I have been doing a bit of the ol' menstruating which means everything is immediately more extreme lol. I've been very conflicted and I'm still not 100% sure how I feel about *THE THING* especially, but this is where I stand right here right now at like 11PM lmao

Under the cut cos this ended up being exponentially longer than I thought it could ever be sorry

Overall I've loved season 2!! It has been so much fun to interact with the community and convert everyone to the Izzy hands cult engage with the fandom week by week. We've had some incredibly beautiful high moments and some lovely refreshing queer joy. I adore the new characters and the developments of our existing ones. I know my negative thoughts here are much more substantial than my positives but this doesn't mean I didn't like it!! I just don't feel the need to describe the positives because I feel like they're pretty obvious and universally recognised, agreed upon and beloved, y'know? (if you want a purely positive thoughts autistic happy flappy hands rant™, i can oblige dw)

Izzy's death is not the only reason I have mixed feelings on the finale. Obviously the episode cuts were a result of HBO'S meddling and isn't the fault of the crew, but the pacing still felt off and everything that happened just kinda washed over me like white noise (haha will wo-). The loose ends were tied up in wholesome ways and if we don't get a season 3 this would be a mostly decent way to end our characters' journeys, if a bit rushed. But then...

Izzy's death. A lot of people feel very very betrayed and hurt by Izzy being killed off, some people don't feel the comfort they used to from this show because of it and no longer want to engage. I don't wanna discount these people's views, more power to them; I cannot stop them from feeling what they feel and doing what they choose. I haven't given up hope on this show but Izzy's death just felt pretty unsatisfying to me?? Putting my bias towards him aside, I get the "killing off mentor at end of second act" trope but I just feel and wish way more could've been done with Izzy. I wanted to see more of him being happy and secure in himself and his found family and his queerness and his disability!! But now I don't get that and it very much stings. I think I could've come to terms more with his death if there had been more time to dwell on it all and get to see the individual characters mourn, but again episode cuts, thanks HBO!! /s. And I know they had the funeral but it still feels like we didn't really get a chance to mourn or treat Izzy's death with the weight it warranted. And I am far too tired especially right now to engage in "is this/is this not bury your gays/disabled character" but I will say I've seen pretty compelling arguments on both sides. As an able-bodied disabled person I don't feel it's fully my place to dictate, but I am upset Izzy was killed right after some big moments in his healing process and being a disabled person and in general just enjoying his life.

Personally I'm not giving up on the show as a whole because the finale left a sour taste in my mouth. I still very much like this show and I'm willing to stick around for a potential season 3 and on future rewatches I'll be able to see the stuff I loved separate from the stuff I didn't. But since looking back now, the latter is most recent, it kind of casts an unpleasant shadow on a very enjoyable season of television.

RIP Izzy Hands you deserved better sweetie, you would've loved Drag Race. And also shoutout to Con O'Neill for a fucking phenomenal performance last season, but especially this one. Izzy was absolutely iconic and a fan favourite for a very good reason, even if imo the writers did him dirty. He was hilarious and a petty little bitch man but then deeply broken and compelling and a genuinely beautiful character with a beautiful journey despite an unfortunate and unjust end?? He slayed.

Wow this was a lot!! Sorry if you were expecting silly goofiness lmfao I got very analysi-ish and a bit melancholic. Thank you so much for the ask JJ, it was a good opportunity to try and express all my thoughts and squish them into something cohesive for both you and me. (And thanks to my friend who I was discussing this with earlier; they helped me get a new perspective by sharing some of his thoughts. Dude, if you're reading this you know who you are, thanks a bunch!!!!)

#wowie zowie this took a long time and i am too tired to proof read it lmao it is LATE #but i probably will anyway for the fear of accidentally saying something that is the exact opposite of what i mean #i am still rather conflicted and a bit upset #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #asks #lovely moots tag

[willingbutterfly]

No, I didn't fall off the wagon, just forgot this blog existed for a while.

New low:

198.6

Also mental health is at an all time low, but I'm getting thinner so I don't care.

Calorie averages are still about 1000, almost never even 1200. I need to keep going. I think I can do this. I lost almost 4 pounds in like 2 days, it was awesome!

I am overwhelmed. I've been cvtting more and more and it hurts a lot. I want to get rid of these cravings though. Scars, pain, likely infections be damned, every time I go over 1200 I hurt myself. I'm so sad I just yanked off the bandages I worked so hard to put on last night.

Maybe someone will truly see how bad I've gotten. I feel like anyone I tell doesn't truly care, just acts like it because they're obligated to care for their fellow human. I hate myself so much. Nobody's going to take me seriously until my ribs stick out and I'm covered in bloody svlfhrm wounds

I felt okay earlier today, but I got home and just felt so sad being alone like this. My "friends" seem to have moved on without me. I'm in a discord group. I stopped coming around, and only like 2 people "reached out" (read: I don't really enjoy their company anyways, wtf are they doing in my dms?) And we aren't even friends.

I've known the rest of the group for a while, and we are going on nearly 2 weeks of me not talking there, and nobody else has reached out. "You're my friend!" Bullshit, no, I'm not. If I were your friend, you would have come around when I expressed I was struggling and looking for support. I didn't get shit. If I deleted every trace of myself from the internet and tried to gaslight everyone into thinking I never existed, I don't think anyone would truly care until they needed something from me. I feel ignored, left behind, forgotten, and neglected. Hate feeling so broken like this.

Why can't I just leave the discord? I hate seeing everyone move on without me and I hate the fact that they're so supportive of eachother with stupid ass tumblr drama that doesn't matter and when I asked for help because I'm truly struggling with my mental health they just bury my post in drama posts.

The favoritism got out of hand. Bigger blogs get their asses kissed. "Oh no x blocked me!" Now there's an army of little morons flaming x blog and being immature. A more popular creator comes around and everyone is pushed to the side and ignored

This blog is a side blog. I dont have a large following on my main. I'm tiny. I don't post much anymore because it doesn't matter. My art shouldn't even be called art it sucks so fucking much. I don't get joy from creating things anymore.

Now I mostly reblog pr0@na coded things on my main and see who reblogs it from me. I hate existing the way I do. If I'm thin and pretty I know I'll be seen and taken seriously and cared about.

I just want to be held while I cry. I want someone to care enough to clean my svlfhrm cuts and bandage them and make me feel truly cared about. I want someone to hold me while we sleep and love me and really care for me. It's sad how pathetic I am.

I just want to hurt myself now, even worse than before and be like "hey, X. How's it hanging? Because I am not fine" lol

#i want to be slim #ed not sheeren #i wanna be thinner #i wanna be weightless #ed not ed sheeran #ana stuff #i hate my body #im going to be perfect #tw vent #tw self destructive behavior #tw self h@rm #tw ana

[mlmxreader]

Scout | Obi Wan Kenobi x m!reader

Anonymous asked: seal anon- i love a good prompt list so i'm going to drop a few in this 1 ask ( you are under no obligation to do them all) each 1 is a different request. not necessarily asking for smut (since i know it's way too hot to write that) but some of these prompts do scream brat reader and daddy kink

for the ones you do can they be x male reader plz

"You're supposed to be on lookout and yet you're here pestering me? Fuck off! I love you, but fuck off!"- Obi wan

summary: you and Obi Wan are in the run together, but when you're meant to be on lookout duty, things stop going according to the plan.

tws: swearing

On the run and hiding from pretty much everyone and anyone, you and Obi Wan were struggling; his face was plastered everywhere, bounty hunters probably weren't far away at any given point, even people who wanted to make a bit of extra cash on the side were after him - although you couldn't blame them, a Jedi was worth a lot as it was, a powerful Jedi was worth even more. Obi Wan Kenobi was worth the most of the bunch. But you had developed a system, at least, that seemed to work for the most part; at least, neither of you had been caught yet.

He would go and do what he needed, while you stayed behind as his lookout, scouting the area for anyone who may be after him or may be getting a little too close; you were better at it than he was, and although he was once a famous negotiator, he didn't have the same charm when there was money for his blood and his head on a stick.

You couldn't see him so well with sweat dripping into your eyes, though, so you dared to creep closer bit by bit until you were at his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and daring to try and act natural.

"What are you doing?"

"I couldn't see," you grumbled, pretending to look at one of the stalls, hoping that everyone thought you were just a couple of boyfriends out shopping. "How am I meant to keep an eye out if I can't fucking see you?"

"Oh, I get it," Obi Wan muttered, picking up one of the trinkets and examining it. "You're supposed to be on lookout and yet you're here pestering me? Fuck off! I love you, but fuck off!"

"I would if I wasn't sweating like a goddamn-" you shook your head "A fucking bucket per minute."

He rolled his eyes, but when he noticed someone looking, he turned so that he could whisper in your ear. "Someone's watching. Smile and act like I'm speaking to you the... the way I do when we're alone."

You smiled, nodding a little and pulling him a little closer. "You mean like when you said you wanted to lick my-"

"Yes," he hissed. "Now shut up, and follow my lead."

"Oh, I do love it when you take control," you joked softly, letting go of his waist, pleasantly surprised when he gently took your hand in his own and held it tightly. You could feel the sweat on his skin, but you still had to bite back the smile that threatened to break out.

"This way," he muttered, tugging you to a different stall, acting as if you were merely a happy couple browsing what was available. "You could get us into trouble for this, you know. If we get caught together, you-"

"I know the risks," you said quietly, picking up a piece of clothing and taking a look at it. "I knew them from the day you asked me out... when you were still a Padawan."

"All these years and you still don't know how to follow orders," Obi Wan huffed, running a hand through his hair.

"I learned from the best," you mused, flashing him a smile. "Don't act like you've always been the perfect Jedi, Obi, you were a little shit."

Obi Wan rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "We should think about moving on... we're getting closer and closer to getting caught the more we stick around."

You nodded. "Do you have what you needed?"

"I got most of it," he confirmed with a nod. "I didn't quite manage to find a decent pair of boots, though."

"We'll find some at some point," you reassured, letting go of his hand so that you could gently rest your own between his shoulder blades. "Do you have transport ready?"

"Yes, at the border," Obi Wan spared a look at you, sudden regret filling him as he sighed.

He didn't mean to drag you into this mess, he didn't mean to make his darling boyfriend a wanted criminal like him, he didn't want you to be hunted down how he was, like some kind of worthless game animal; he didn't mean for things to play out like this, and every day, he regretted that you had ever been involved with him.

But then you dragged your hand down, and gave his ass a gentle and playful tap, and he realised that your feelings hadn't faltered, and if you had to be on the run just to be with them, you were glad to be.

"Come on," you chuckled. "Let's get going before we get out asses handed to us."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - do not just leave a "like", REBLOG IT. you may also leave feedback in the form of asks, tags, etc which is greatly appreciated, but you SHOULD reblog it regardless.

#mlem writes #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x yn #obi wan one shot #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfic #obi wan fic #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor x you #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor x reader

[rphelperblog]

The Seven Husband of Evelyn Hugo Quote Rp Meme

by Taylor Jenkins Reid- feel free to edit or change pronouns- part one

‘“Never let anyone make you feel ordinary.” 

“I spent half my time loving her and the other half hiding how much I loved her.” 

“I love you too much to let you live only for me.” 

“It’s a hard business, reconciling what the truth used to be with what the truth is now.” 

“And here’s why it worked: man or woman, gay, straight, bisexual, you name it, we all just want to be teased.” 

“The world respects people who think they should be running it.”

“I can't speak for all people who have been hit by someone they love, but what I can tell you is that forgiveness is different from absolution.” 

“I guess what I’m saying is it’s not all luck. It’s luck and being a son of a bitch.” 

“People don't find it very sympathetic or endearing, a woman who puts herself first. Nor do people respect a man who can't keep his wife in line.” 

“Twice now in our lives. I have spent years getting over you.” 

“No one is just a victim or a victor. Everyone is somewhere in between.

who was the love of your life? You can tell me."

“I can survive it. I’d rather survive it than never feel it.” 

"It's ok, you can fall down now. I'll catch you." So I fell down.” 

“Praise is just like an addiction. The more you get it, the more of it you need just to stay even.” 

“forgiveness is different from absolution.” 

“No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way.” 

“You don't have to make yourself OK for a good mother; a good mother makes herself OK for you.” 

“It shouldn’t be wrong, to love you. How can it be wrong?”

“It’s not wrong, sweetheart. It’s not, they’re wrong.” 

“Why have I spent so long settling for less when I know damn well the world expects more?” 

“If I want things to change, I have to change how I do things. And probably drastically.” 

“How someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.” 

“I'm bisexual. Don't ignore half of me so you can fit me into a box.” 

“People are messy, and love can be ugly. I’m inclined to always err on the side of compassion.” 

“I was gorgeous, even at fourteen. Oh, I know the whole world prefers a woman who doesn’t know her power, but I’m sick of all that. I turned heads.” 

“Heartbreak is a loss. Divorce is a piece of paper.” 

“You wonder what it must be like to be a man, to be so confident that the final say is yours.” 

“Isn’t that the very definition of power? Watching people kill themselves over something that means nothing to you?” 

“I’m cynical and I’m bossy, and most people would consider me vaguely immoral.” 

“Sometimes reality comes crashing down on you. Other times reality simply waits, patiently, for you to run out of the energy it takes to deny it.” 

“Don't ignore half of me so you can fit me into a box. Don't do that.” 

“I’m under absolutely no obligation to make sense to you.” 

“Make them pay you what they would pay a white man.” 

“You can be sorry about something and not regret it,”

“Which is about the cruelest thing you can do to someone you love, give them just enough good to make them stick through a hell of a lot of bad.” 

“It’s always been fascinating to me how things can be simultaneously true and false, how people can be good and bad all in one, how someone can love you in a way that is beautifully selfless while serving themselves ruthlessly.” 

“I simply didn't care. It cost so much, caring. I didn't have any currency to spend on it.” 

“I was fishing for information that might break my heart. A flaw of the human condition.” 

“But accepting that something is true isn't the same as thinking that it is just.” 

“My heart was never in the craft of acting, only in the proving. Proving my power, proving my worth, proving my talent.” 

“Being wanted meant having to satisfy.” 

“It strikes me as a unique form of power to say your own name when you know that everyone in the room, everyone in the world, already knows it.” 

“Two men sleeping together. Married to two women sleeping together. We were four beards.” 

“I've never thought of myself as a force to be reckoned with. Maybe I should start thinking of myself that way; maybe I deserve to.” 

“charisma is “charm that inspires devotion.” 

“It just goes to show that if you tell a woman her only skill is to be desirable, she will believe you.” 

“If you are intolerable, let me be the one to tolerate you,"

“When you dig just the tiniest bit beneath the surface, everyone's love life is original and interesting and nuanced and defies any easy definition.” 

“That’s the part I was stuck in, the part where you accept the apology because it’s easier than addressing the root of the problem,” 

“Sometimes divorce isn’t an earth-shattering loss. Sometimes it’s just two people waking up out of a fog.” 

And to anyone tempted to kiss the TV tonight, please don't chip your tooth.” 

“What's that saying? Behind every gorgeous woman, there's a man sick of screwing her? Well, it works both ways. No one mentions that part.

“The daily peace of loving plainly.” 

“Do you think I'm a whore?

“Isn't it awfully convenient,“that when men make the rules, the one thing that's looked down on the most is the one thing that would bear them the greatest threat? Imagine if every single woman on the planet wanted something in exchange when she gave up her body. You'd all be ruling the place. An armed populace. Only men like me would stand a chance against you. And that's the last thing those assholes want, a world run by people like you and me.”

“And it will be the tragedy of my life that I cannot love you enough to make you mine. That you cannot be loved enough to be anyone’s.” 

“You have to find a job that makes your heart feel big instead of one that makes it feel small.” 

“You have to find a job that makes your heart feel big instead of one that makes it feel small.”

“Be wary of men with something to prove.” 

“When you're given an opportunity to change your life, be ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen. The world doesn't give things, you take things.” 

“I simply didn't care. It cost so much, caring. I didn't have any currency to spend on it.” 

“Please never forget that the sun rises and sets with your smile. At least to me it does. You’re the only thing on this planet worth worshipping.”

“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is 'you're safe with me'- that's intimacy.”

"Do you understand what I'm telling you? When you're given an opportunity to change your life, be ready to do whatever it takes to make it happen. The world doesn't give things, you take things. If you learn one thing from me, it should probably be that.” 

“you can’t tell a single thing about a person’s true character if you both want the same thing. That’s like a dog and a cat getting along because they both want to kill the mouse.” 

. It’s time for her to go to her daughter, and her lover, and her best friend, and her mother.” 

“I loved you so much that I thought you were the meaning of my life....I thought that people were put on earth to find other people, and I was put here to find you. To find you and touch your skin and smell your breath and hear all your thoughts. But I don't want to be meant for someone like you.” 

“It’s OK, you can fall down now. I’ll catch you.” 

“I think being yourself—your true, entire self—is always going to feel like you’re swimming upstream.”

“But if the last few years with you have been any indication, I think it also feels like taking your bra off at the end of the day.” 

And anyways, I think once people know the truth, they will be much more interested in my wife.” 

“I loved you so much that I thought you were the meaning of my life....I thought that people were put on earth to find other people, and I was put here to find you. To find you and touch your skin and smell your breath and hear all your thoughts. But I don't want to be meant for someone like you".” 

“I made it fifty-fifty. Which is the cruelest thing you can do to someone you love, give them just enough good to make them stick through a hell of a lot of bad.” 

“People have so closely followed the most intricate details of the fake story of my life.” 

“Why should my low tolerance be your problem?" 

"I want everything about you to be my problem,"

“That is the fastest way to ruin a woman’s reputation, after all—to imply that she has not adequately threaded the needle that is being sexually satisfying without ever appearing to desire sexual satisfaction.”

“I'd told him I was someone else, and then I started getting angry that he couldn't see who I really was.” 

“The devastating luxury of panic overtook me.And it has never left.” 

“You’re not really famous if anyone still likes you.” 

“You wonder what it must be to be a man, to be so confident that the final say is yours.” 

t charming girls should take pity on the pretty ones. I’m just saying it’s not so great being loved for something you didn’t do.” 

“I can’t rest until I’m done. I have to push her. I have to ask and be willing to be told no. I have to know my worth.” 

“I had learned all too well that pain was sometimes stronger than the need to keep up appearances.” 

“I can’t rest until I’m done. I have to push her. I have to ask and be willing to be told no. I have to know my worth.” 

“Me, I’ve always gone after what I wanted with everything in me. Others fall into happiness. Sometimes I wish I was like them. I’m sure sometimes they wish they were like me.” 

“If you are intolerable, let me be the one to tolerate you,” 

“You know the key to impulsivity is believing you are invincible. No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way.” 

“First, you have to push people’s boundaries and not feel bad about it. No one is going to give you anything if you don’t ask for it. You tried. You were told no. Get over it.” 

“I think the word whore is something ignorant people throw around when they have nothing else.” 

“Even more gorgeous than I imagined.”

“It cost so much, caring. I didn't have any currency to spend on it.” 

“I miss my dad. I miss him all the time. But it’s moments like this, when I’m on the precipice of finally doing work that might just expand my heart, that I wish I could at least send him a letter, telling him what I’m doing. And I wish that he could send me one back.” 

“I’m simply saying they were all too happy to believe the lie I was selling them. And of course, that’s the easiest lie to tell, one you know the other person desperately wants to be true.” 

“I think being yourself—your true, entire self—is always going to feel like you’re swimming upstream.” 

“You can decide that wealth and renown are worthless when you have them.” 

“I feel no pressure to stop crying. I feel no need to explain myself. You don't have to make yourself okay for a good mother. A good mother makes herself okay for you.”

“I liked the idea of showing a woman having sex because she wanted to be pleased instead of being desperate to please.” 

“No one is all good or all bad. I know this, of course. I had to learn it at a young age. But sometimes it’s easy to forget just how true it is. That it applies to everyone.” 

“I have been married seven times, and never once has it felt half as right as this. I think that loving you has been the truest thing about me

#taylor jenkins reid #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #booktube #booktok #open rp #open to all #open to anyone #ask meme #open meme #open to anybody #rp meme #ask prompt #roleplay meme #memes #open starter #open to everyone

[disticfiction]

Bobby scrambled to cover himself, his face burning as Tony's soft eyes pierced through him like a knife. He forgot he'd called the heartbroken man to meet him at the motel. Even more so, he forgot he told him to walk in without knocking. His symptoms weren't acting up too badly that day, but he was still tired and happened to fall asleep. When he woke he needed a shower, the heat sticking him with sweat, so he got one, losing track of time and forgetting his plans entirely.

"Tony, I--!" He dove onto the bed and tried to pull the sheets over his thighs, but he was sitting on them, keeping them pinned. "I-it's not what you think!"

Tony gulped, too stunned to move. "I didn't know you had a--"

"I know, it's disgusting," Bobby scoffed, staring at the wall as he slipped his hands over his crotch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to see this." The shame sunk in as Tony stood in silence. "Gimme a sec, I'll get dressed. Just ... wait outside."

Without saying a word, Tony obliged, rushing to the exit, and Bobby sighed. His lungs felt better that afternoon, but his mind spun with embarrassment. No one knew about his body, not since his ex-fiancé. He wasn't sure how Tony felt, but he seemed thunderstruck. The realisation that he may have caused the poor man even more stress made his heart ache. He wanted to help him, not make things awkward. Smacking his forehead, he fell back onto the mattress, utterly mortified and unsure how to proceed.

"Bobby."

Tony's voice made him flinch. He looked up, quickly, only to see the dark-haired man standing at the end of the bed, holding a large dildo. With a squeak, he tried to sit up, but Tony stopped him, placing a gentle hand on his knee and pushing he leg to the side. His skin was warm and soft, but his eyes drooled with hunger; hunger and an unexpected nod of acceptance.

"Wh-what are you gonna do with that?" Bobby asked, perhaps naively as the toy inched closer to his entrance.

"I'm gonna thank you."

"Th-thank me? For what?"

"Don't be coy, Bobby. I owe you a lot. You've been chasing my wife and daughter's killers for over a year, tirelessly, even to the detriment of your own health."

"Tony--"

"I've been trying to think of a way to thank you, and now I've found it."

"T-Tony--!" He blushed, squirming as Tony's hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Shh, just relax. It's okay."

"T-T-Tony!"

He groaned as the tip pushed in, stretching his walls, slowly. It was too big, but Tony was gentle, twisting the length to coat it in his juices. The first inch hadn't even penetrated, but already Bobby was shaking, bunching the bedsheets between his fingers with one hand and gripping Tony's shirt with the other. It felt good, and he hadn't felt good in a long, long time. His clit throbbed as the rubber bumped against it, sending pangs of pleasure shooting up his spine, his insides clenching. He wanted more, he longed for such devotion and attention, but it also felt wrong. He didn't want Tony to feel indebted to him, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was only fucking him out of pity. He tried to protest, but what came out was a low, pleasured whimper, his words jumbled.

"That's it," Tony soothed, pulling him closer to his chest. "You're getting nice and wet."

"Ugh! You don't h-have to do this!"

"Just a bit deeper. Look at you opening up."

Bobby gasped, tightening his grip. He'd never taken anything as big as the dildo Tony was gradually pushing inside him. He wondered where it came from, but quickly surmised it must've been his wife's. That thought made his stomach dance--knowing that Tony felt close enough to him to share something so personal. A little more maneuvering and a jolt of extra force, and it slipped in completely, hitting his delicate end.

"Aah!"

"You okay?" Tony asked, gently brushing back his hair. "Is it too thick?"

"I ... oh, God! I'm gonna cum!"

"Already?"

"Yes!" he squealed, failing to fight the oncoming wave of pleasure erupting from his core. "M-my pussy! My hole's being ripped apart!"

Tony smiled, thrusting the toy ever so slightly, but that simple, subtle movement was enough to send Bobby spiraling out of control. His walls clenched down, a pure, sparkling liquid shooting across the room as his first climax in over a decade left him in tears. He didn't even know he could squirt. He'd never felt anything so wonderous. He didn't know his cunt could fit such an intrusion, but somehow it adjusted. Barely.

"Was that good?" Tony asked, twisting the rubber around Bobby's quaking walls.

"Oh, G-God!"

"You think you can take a little more?"

Bobby was exhausted, his head spinning, his breath exacerbated. Just that one orgasm alone could've held him over for as long as he had left. He should've said no, but he hadn't felt so connected to someone in ages. In truth, he wasn't sure if he could handle another go, especially in his condition, but he did know one thing: he felt fantastic. Better than he had in years. Huffing, his lidded eyes met Tony's, and he nodded a desperate 'yes'.

The dark haired man smiled, then leaned into his thrusts, and that drove Bobby wild. He yelped, his fingers digging into the sheets as his legs vibrated against the mattress, his clit rubbing along the beads. He could feel the length, the power, the stretch, and he lost himself to it, squinting his eyes and falling back.

"Ah, ah, ah."

Tony caught his head, holding him slightly upright, and placed a gentle kiss on his sweaty forehead. It was a stark contrast to the violence his hole was enduring, but he loved it. The warmth of Tony's hand and lips, but the might of his arm as he rammed the dildo in and out--he needed it. He wanted it. He didn't care that Tony was another man, which he'd never been with. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

"Augh! I'm gonna cum again!"

"Let it out, baby."

He did, his voice breaking as tears blurred his vision, another stream of clear liquid shooting across the room. Every nerve in his body fought to recover, but failed. He couldn't win. Losing control of his body to cancer horrified him, but losing control of his body to that rough, defiant ecstasy made him feel alive again. Cured, even, if only briefly. As the waves of pleasure washed away his fear and stress, he spread his legs wider and curled into Tony's chest.

"M-more!" he begged, weakly grinding his hips. "Please..."

"One more," Tony whispered, kissing his forehead yet again. "Then you gotta rest."

"Y-yes. Just ... please. Don't stop."

Cradling Bobby with a tender smile, he pumped the dildo harder than ever before, slamming so viciously that the sound of his slick hole stretching around the rubber echoed off the walls. No mercy this time, even when the poor, disheveled cop came. Tony said 'one more', but he didn't mean orgasm; he meant round. As long as his muscles could go.

"Oh, yeah. That's it," Tony lisped, staring as Bobby's crease turned a glowing shade of red. "You're taking it so well."

"Aaauhg! I'm gonna cum again! T-Tony!"

As the pulses hit, Tony let his partner fall into his pillow, but kept his rhythm, driving the toy nonstop until Bobby was a writhing, shameless mess. He came again. Then again. Then again, losing all sense of self and direction. Out of breath, his eyes rolled back, his heart racing, he reached out for Tony's hand, and he gave it, squeezing his fingers with compassion. He'd accomplished his goal. Bobby's hole was ruined and his mind was broken, but most importantly, he felt safe. Maybe even loved.

"Fuck, Bobby. Look at that hole gripping me. So loose, but so tight. It makes no sense, but there it is, all worn out and wounded."

"C-c-cumming!"

One final rumble, Bobby's stomach turning and cunt thumping as the dildo pulled out, sharing his perfect, gushing gape with the world. As he came, his voice cracked with frail, woeful whimpers, the ceaseless euphoria too much for him to bear.

"Fuck, it's winking at me," Tony huffed, equally out of breath. "Do you mind if I rape you?"

"R-rape me?" Bobby barely managed to ask, confused.

"Yeah, tell me no. Tell me not to fuck you anymore, then just lie there and cry while I wreck your pussy."

Bobby's eyelids fluttered. It was ironic, but it dawned on him that that must've been what he did with his wife, and something about that made Bobby feel honoured. Special. Holding onto the bed frame for dear life, he shook his head.

"No, Tony. P-please don't fuck me anymore!"

"Mmm. Why not?"

"Because I'm gonna faint. I'm at my limit!"

"That's too bad, isn't it?"

Without warning, Tony jumped onto the bed and, with two hands, rammed the impossibly large toy back inside, hamming down into the gape that definitely couldn't handle anymore action. Bobby screamed, his sounds deep and chaotic, but he couldn't fight it. Through lidded eyes and tears, he looked up to see Tony scarily focused. The more Bobby begged him to stop, the more weight he put into each blow, smiling as he watched Bobby's toes curl and mind melt in the insanity.

"It's loose! It's so loose, Bobby! But you're getting tighter!"

"Auuugh! Aoough!"

"Oh fuck, yes, that's it! Sing for me!"

"T-Tony, my hole!"

"Feel it! Feel all of me! Feel everything!"

"I! Can't! Th-think straight!"

"Cum!"

"Auuuuuuughhh!"

They both lost count. Tony continued for another twenty-seven minutes until his arms couldn't keep pace, and Bobby couldn't even beg him to stop anymore. All he felt was ridiculous bliss, his thighs and pussy soaked, his drool rolling off the pillow.

Dropping the toy, Tony rocked him through it, brushing his cheeks as he slowly--very slowly--came down from his high. Aside from Bobby's delicate moans and whines, they laid in silence for a long time, Tony occasionally glancing down to look at the chasm he'd left between his best friend's legs.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wiping the sweat from Bobby's brow. "Was it too much?"

He couldn't answer, still drowning in the aftermath. Instead, he simply touched Tony's hand and weakly lead it down to his pulsating entrance. It was getting cold and it couldn't close, not after so much abuse.

Understanding, Tony grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, rejoined Bobby at his side, and kept his hand against his gape. He blushed as he felt Bobby's worn flaps throb against his palm, his spasms constant. Neither men were sure what the future would hold; but in that moment, they were happy.

And Bobby's hole was broken.

[masterwcrk]

Arthur ( @valiantsword, moved for beta editor )

was it stupid to think about all the times he'd stood with clary beneath the stars? so many different lifetimes. so many different places and yet she made his heart beat erratically every time. good thing she didn't have super sensitive hearing or he'd have a lot of explaining to do.

the cigarette comes up to his lips before he can say anything in response. didn't matter how badly he hurt the point was he'd be okay. all he needed was the time to shove all those messy emotions back into a box so they didn't see the light of day. the last thing arthur ever, ever wanted was to hurt clary, which meant he needed to do a much better job of being less messy.

" don't worry yourself over these old bones, fy ngolau. too many years means too many thoughts stuffed into my head, " arthur exhales one last plume of smoke before tossing the rest of the stick on the ground and stomping it under foot. clary's company meant he didn't want to keep doing it in front of her. " i'm fine. i'm always fine. "

at least until she was gone again, anyway.

" what's on your mind? "

she's seen so many wonders in all her lifetimes - architectural miracles carved from the earth as if by the hands of the gods themselves, acts of bravery that would earn anyone a place among the stars - & yet staring at him she's always struck by how he stands out even amongst all those collective experiences. he means so many things to her & she can never voice them because each & every lifetimes has played them like two tops unleashed to spin next to each other before rocketing off in separate directions when she ultimately succumbs each lifetime & he stays steady & stalwart.

it's not fair, especially not in this lifetime where her obligations don't keep her from his side. the yearning might break her, but she's determined to keep it to herself. he doesn't need to be burdened with her heart when she knows it only has but so many beats.

exhaling, she's ready to tell him she's fine, if tired - the words are already on her lips but she can't make them come out this time. she tries, god she tries, but all she manages is a tired hum before shaking her head. ' you know, technically I'm older than you, ' the redhead finally teases him. ' at least, I have older memories. does that count? so I suppose I could use that to justify worrying as I do. what's troubling you? '

#valiantsword #☆ ❛ not meant to be alone ❜ || verse. ( au. — the old guard ) #☆ ❛ and the words came pouring out ❜ || interactions #she doesn't want to talk about her feelings #but she probably needs to #lmao they're both disasters #q.